


Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile - ON SHORT HIATUS

by EmmaRzHere



Category: my hero - Fandom, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Midoriya Inko, Guilty Bakugou Katsuki, Healing, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insecure Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Friend, Kirishima Eijirou is a Ray of Sunshine, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Midoriya Inko Needs a Hug, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Multi, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Protective Midoriya Inko, Protective Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Psychological Trauma, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Recovery, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko Being an Asshole, Tags May Change, Tired Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Todoroki Shouto is a Dork, Tortured Midoriya Izuku, Traumatized Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochako is a Good Friend, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Worried Midoriya Inko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaRzHere/pseuds/EmmaRzHere
Summary: “Shigaraki.” Kurogiri repeated, his dark wisps flaring up as his words practically dripped with annoyance, “We need to go! I know you like to play with your…“unsolvable puzzle” over there, but the boy can’t be used for his original purpose at this point! He’s worthless to us! Now come here now, the erasure hero could be here any second!”“Ugh, fine….” Shigaraki sighed again, dropping the broken toy back into the increasing pool of blood and sauntering over to Kurogiri’s side, sliding his finger along the spotless bar table for what could be the last time as he slowly placed one foot in front of the other. “Take us to master, I suppose.”In an instant a black swirling pool of darkness opened beneath them, swallowing them and leaving the room completely empty. Completely empty except for the underweight figure lying in the centre in the room, left there to smile, laugh and mutter to himself as the puddle of blood surrounding him continued to grow.Or when a tortured quirkless Midoriya is abandoned by the League, Bakugo is traumatised by his past actions, All Might is guilt ridden and Aizawa deserves a break from all the problem children (and adults) plaguing his life.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Bakugou Katsuki & Class 1-A, Bakugou Katsuki & Everyone, Bakugou Katsuki & Iida Tenya & Kirishima Eijirou & Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Class 1-A & Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya & Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou & Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Everyone, Midoriya Izuku & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 196
Kudos: 746





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Sup mah doods!  
> This is my first attempt at writing anything outside of school creative writing, so it's a mess!  
> I honestly have no clue how to write well, or how the story turned into this: I'm normally a meme lord who writes stupid things and now suddenly ANGST!!!!!  
> Anyways, please feel free to leave tips for improvement at the end, I need all the help I can when it comes to how to write well!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> (also sorry for the mess that is the tags, it's my first time have mercy!)

“It’s no good” sighed Shigaraki. “We’ve played with it beyond repair, yet this _fucking_ NPC won’t change!” He looked down in disgust at the smiling figure sprawled on the floor, violently twitching in their unnatural position, their limbs spread in ways that could only be achieved with multiple broken bones and joints.

“We need to go Shigaraki,” Kurogiri murmured from behind him, more visibly irritated than he’d appeared to be in a long time. That was understandable; they’d wasted months on this project, just to somehow be tracked down from the USJ attack last month, leaving them with no choice but to ditch this failed attempt in order to ensure their own escape. This was not the satisfying ending Shigaraki wanted, in fact it left the taste of blood and bile in the back of his throat. But there was no point continuing with this little ‘experiment’.

“Don’t bother hiding it Kurogiri. That shitty Eraserhead is too observant to not find it, and there’s nothing to be done about the blood…” Shigaraki glanced around the bar, cringing slightly at the blood spewing from the young boy’s thin, trembling body onto the floor. There was no salvaging that carpet or hiding the evidence. “On the bright side, I doubt this character will say anything that will help the heroes if they attempt to interrogate it. In fact,” Shigaraki leered as he leaned down to have one final look at the victim’s haggard, bloody face, four fingers lifting up the limp yet spasming figure by the chin, “I doubt it will say anything that makes sense ever again! Its coding is completely glitched!”

“Shigaraki.” Kurogiri repeated, his dark wisps flaring up as his words practically dripped with annoyance, “We _need_ to go! I know you like to play with your…“unsolvable puzzle” over there, but the boy can’t be used for his original purpose at this point! He’s worthless to us! Now come here now, the erasure hero could be here any second!”

“Ugh, fine….” Shigaraki sighed again, dropping the broken toy back into the increasing pool of blood and sauntering over to Kurogiri’s side, sliding his finger along the spotless bar table for what could be the last time as he slowly placed one foot in front of the other. “Take us to master, I suppose.”

In an instant a black swirling pool of darkness opened beneath them, swallowing them and leaving the room completely empty. Completely empty except for the underweight figure lying in the centre in the room, left there to smile, laugh and mutter to himself as the puddle of blood surrounding him continued to grow.

-__-

Aizawa Shouta clenched his teeth together, suppressing the urge to groan as shooting pains shot down his back into his legs. Recovery Girl was a miracle worker, but even she couldn’t completely undo all the damage that had been inflicted on him at the USJ in less than a month. He couldn’t miss this mission though, he had to take down those fuckers who dared try to hurt his students. One of them had even pulled out of his class after receiving severe injuries to their arms from that Noumu creature. It was a shame really, they’d had decent potential with a quirk that allowed them to manipulate light into different weapons. They had great technique; it was just a shame that their inhumane opponent could snap their weapons faster than they could make them…

He couldn’t let the League get away with that. Plus the mission was simple enough for him to not push himself: most of the League had been taken down during the attack with only the ringleaders escaping. There was backup outside in case the League had a trick up their sleeves, including Best Jeanist, Endeavor… and All Might himself. Shouta felt his headache increase – there was nothing that worsened his pains more than thinking about that lumbering obnoxious oaf teaching _his_ students – the fool could barely look after himself, let alone a classroom of powerful teenagers. How he ended up the number one hero was beyond Aizawa, though he guessed it was more or less because of his flashy quirk and charismatic exterior.

As Shouta turned the corner, his heartbeat quickened in pace when his eyes came across a small figure lying on the ground. This was the first person he had come across so far since entering the building, and he didn’t seem to be readying for a fight. Was this a trap? Did the League know they were coming and prepared to lower the heroes guard? Maybe the (boy? It looked like a boy from here…was that a school uniform?) person on the floor was stronger than he looked? Shouta activated his quirk on the figure, just in case…nothing happened, the person (definitely a boy, it was clearer the closer he got) wasn’t using his quirk (were his limbs meant to be positioned like that?). He continued to cautiously creep closer to the shuddering boy, now peering around the rest of the room in case this was an ambush (the blood seeping out around the boy mixed with the sinking feeling in his chest told him otherwise – this kid was clearly malnourished and injured). Soon he found himself standing directly above the boy, and the sight he saw made his entire body stiffen up as if the cogs that kept him moving had suddenly had a knife thrown into it, screeching to a halt as the knife scraped along the protesting cogs.

Shouta had thought that the kid’s body was going to be the most horrifying thing he saw that night. He had been wrong. The face on the child was…wrong. Nothing about it matched the situation: despite the gauntness and paleness on the face, a massive smile was plastered on. It wasn’t a happy smile, it was more like each corner of his mouth had been pulled taut, just to then be stapled in place, making it impossible for the mouth to relax, the unnatural smile completed with the coating of blood on his molars. It put Aizawa’s own ‘sadist smile’ to shame. Then there were his eyes: how could Shouta react to those? Those putrid green eyes shouldn’t look like that, both distant and hyper focused, both empty and full of emotion, both gleaming with joyful insanity and shadowed with absolute primal fear. Accessorised with bags that more than rivalled Shouta’s own just added to the wriggling that took place in Shouta’s organs as he continued to look into the rancid depths of those haunted eyes, the only thought racing through his head being how wrong wrong _wrong_ this was. No child should possibly be able to look like this, it should be impossible!

Aizawa later reasoned with himself that this fear made it perfectly understandable that when the boy jolted particularly violently and let an abrupt giggle slide out from between his bared teeth, Shouta leaped from his position over the boy to the polished surface of the bar, hissing as a jolt of pain spread from his hip down to his right knee (the pain at least helped distract him from the clench of his stomach as he looked down to see his shoes covered in the boy's blood, the issue not being the substance but who it came from), followed by him shouting "Hey, stay where you are!”.

The boy (if you could even call it that) didn't attempt anything; he just continued to lie there, giggling through clenched teeth while murmuring to himself, continuously flinching and jolting around in the surrounding blood, the slapping sound of his twitching limbs against the liquid surrounding him nauseatingly reminding Aizawa of a fish out of water.

He decided to use this moment to analyse this person (can't be a person a person doesn't look like that): he appeared to be young, definitely a student, probably around the age of 12, though that just could be because of the obvious malnourishment. He also didn't seem to be bleeding out as badly as initially thought due to a lot of the blood on his figure looking crusted and dry from most likely older scars. However, the amount of fresher blood on the floor indicates he's been bleeding out for a while, and those arms and legs were definitely not meant to be like that (neither was the face the face!). The rest of him was seemingly clean, the too pale skin tainted grey clinging to his bones as if it might fall off his it loosened. This skin tone only added to the monstrous impression his face made, draining the life out of the figure before him. The hair was also clean, Aizawa noted. It was overgrown and knotted, but not as matted as it should be considering the state of his clothes, and apart from the blood soaking the bottom of his head there seemed to be little to no grime in the hair, letting the dark green sheen of his locks glow in the light from the dim overhead-

Wait. Dark green hair? Shouta thought process stopped dead in it's tracks. It couldn't be...could it? Shouta quickly recited what he remembered on that case: dark green hair, check. Green eyes, jarringly different from the old picture he'd been given, but check. Was fourteen, would be fifteen by now, could possibly be the case with this kid? Freckles, yes, he could just about make out some faded freckles dotted across his cheekbones. Quirkless, possibly as no signs of a quirk had been shown yet…

All the pieces slid into place, revealing this truth to Aizawa who's guts somehow managed to become even more twisted inside him upon the realisation. He was pretty sure all his insides had finally teamed up against him to play a game of musical chairs (in which they constantly swapped positions every. Fucking. Time.) as it dawned on him what this meant happened to the cheerful boy he was given a picture of all those months ago, what became of the smiling, kind, quirkless boy....shit, what was his name?

Shouta's body started acting before he had the thinking time to stop it; he found himself jumping off the table towards the obviously damaged child (he really needed to learn this kid's name). He knelt down next to the child and said the first words his scrambled brain could comprehend: “… you’re that boy, the one who went missing a while back?”

Aizawa hadn’t been expecting an answer, not considering the state of the child (he’s just a child just a child what did Shigaraki do?), but the lack of response added to Shouta’s increasing amount of worry and dread making its way up his throat. He still hadn’t acknowledged Shouta’s existence, still just lying there, chuckling and murmuring to some unseen audience, or maybe just himself? Begrudgingly, Aizawa leaned in towards the boy to here what he was saying, maybe it would reveal…something, anything about this case, what happened to create the demented shell left in front of him? Ignoring his gut instinct to run away, placed his ears as close as he dared to the smile (the smile that can open up and swallow you whole, run!) and heard faint mumbling saying “…heroes a-are always s-smiling. I m-must s-smile. I must. I must….”

Shouta gulped, pulling his head away as the boy dissolved once more into a quiet fit of giggles. How was he meant to answer this rambling? The boy was waiting to be rescued by heroes from the sound of it. Months of waiting just to end up being so disjointed from reality by the time help arrives that he doesn’t even realise it’s there. “Sh-shit, don’t worry kid, I’m a hero, you’re safe now, the League is gone,” Shouta rambled, aware that the boy most likely wasn’t aware he was speaking. Honestly Shouta was using the flow of words to ground himself more than anything, the sound of his own voice reverberating in his throat keeping back the static that threatened to take over his vision and hearing. Shit, Aizawa wasn’t normally like this, why was this child affecting him so much? Maybe he should’ve taken more time off from the USJ before taking on cases like this? He glanced back at the boy’s eyes to finds two glazed pinprick pupils staring back at him, so small yet sucking in all the light in the room, as if they were two black holes embedded into his skull rather than regular, human eyes. Aizawa kept his stream of words going, refusing to stop until he was interrupted by a high pitched, ecstatic laugh:

“Shigs h-here m-must smile a-at Shigs heroes s-smile.” His voice was definitely growing in volume, the quiet laughter from before mutating into abrupt waves of hysteria. Shouta had to do something quick, the boy seemed of realised he wasn’t being attacked anymore (he couldn’t know that the boy’s completely disassociated he can’t know what he’s saying right now) but was instead losing any form of composure he had, his breathing becoming frantic and his eyes widening.

He said the first mildly comforting things that entered his empty head, a last ditch effort to calm the boy down while also cautiously lifting up the boys head to give it more support than the floor did, carefully adjusting his limb’s as to not cause even more pain, “Listen, we’re the only ones here, the League left when All Might arrived, just calm down-“

“Shigs hates smiling! Bad Shigs hates smiling!” the crazed kid interrupted Shouta’s rambling with a shriek, his eyes bulging from their sockets as if they were going to burst any moment just as he separated his teeth for the first time, revealing a bloody tongue. The boy (for fuck’s sake! How can he not remember this boy’s name already – he’d worked on the case for a few months until the police decided it was a cold case!) wasn’t breathing in anymore; in fact he seemed to be forcing all the air out of his lungs in weakening bursts. Before Shouta could even begin another attempt at calming him down (it would fail anyways of course it would this kid had completely dissociated or worse) his eyes rolled into the back of his head, unconsciousness claiming him as a final splutter of a laugh left his lips. The open-mouthed smile that stretched to breaking point did not budge from it’s etched in position on the boy’s face, his body (finally) going completely limp.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he took the mission of sneaking into the League of Villains ahead of the main forces of the operation. He had half expected to be out of depth, with his injuries not fully healed. But until now, as he knelt supporting the head of the unconscious vessel of pain and suffering, trying to figure out the least damaging way of picking him up, Aizawa had never felt so useless.

-__-

Yagi Toshinori, also known as All Might, stood at the ready, muscles tensed as he prepared to smash the building in front of him to pieces at a moments notice. It was lucky this was his only hero job today; he had a full two hours left before he’d have to return to his other form.

He sighed to himself. Two hours would have to be enough. He knew the League was powerful despite being small in numbers, and if there were any more of those Noumu _things_ he’d have to risk losing more of his time limit. Plus this would be all he’d be able to do today as far as heroics – one measly fight that he might not even be needed for before spending the rest of the day as a frail shadow of his muscle form that can’t protect others, let alone himself. _God_ he was pathetic for a ‘number one hero’! At least he could find a little comfort amongst his mountains of self-pity in knowing that One for All was going on to someone who would use it better than he did.

Yet even that left a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, Mirio would be an amazing hero, there was no doubt about that, in fact he reminded Toshinori of a younger version of himself, a young, bright, selfless figure who fits the mould of a perfect new symbol of peace. Sure, he was a very nice, determined young man who had a good quirk which when combined with One for All would make him an unstoppable force of justice. Sure, choosing Mirio meant he’d been able to reconnect with Nighteye, and while there was a clear void of awkwardness between them the faith Toshinori had put into his choice of successor had helped form a base to rebuild their relationship off of. Sure, Mirio was the most logical choice, the most well-suited person, the perfect student to pass on the immense power and responsibility to but…

Mirio wasn’t _his_ student, he was Nighteye’s. He was picked out and trained by Nighteye. Yagi had already missed out on being trained by his predecessor, and a big part of him hurt knowing that he wasn’t mentoring his student either. I was selfish, Toshinori knew that, but he just wanted to have that student-mentor bond that he never got the chance to have. He wanted to feel pride when looking at his successor, knowing that he’d helped create the shining hero who would play a big role in shaping humanity’s future against evil.

He didn’t have that with Mirio.

Toshinori pulled himself from his thoughts. Shit, he needed to stay _focused_! This wasn’t any small-time villain group – this was the League of Villains, the ones who somehow managed to infiltrate UA! He couldn’t afford to lower his guard, they could counterattack any moment! All Might raised his head, focusing on the wall in front of him, determined to not let his personal thoughts distract him at this crucial time.

Then Aizawa exited. With someone in his arms.

All Might’s heart skipped a beat, feeling his built-up bravado slip from his grasp. Something was wrong here. In all the time he’d known him, he’d never seen Aizawa look so shaken, including after having his head smashed into the concrete floor of the USJ by a man-made bird monster mutation. Yagi watched as Aizawa stumbled out of the building’s entrance, arms trembling slightly despite how light the person looked (was it a child? Please say it wasn’t a child). To most people his face would look eerily neutral, but Toshinori noticed his eyes were wider than usual, his mouth parted slightly as he breathed in and out breaths that were slightly too heavy and controlled to be natural. Toshinori had saved enough people from peril as All Might to recognise the signs of fear, no matter how much they were suppressed. Something was very, very wrong.

“The League was gone by the time I got inside. They knew we were coming. This boy was all they left.” Aizawa announced in his monotone, factual tone. If any of the police or other heroes noticed the slight tremble underlying Aizawa’s words, they said nothing. “I believe the boy is a kidnapped victim from a previous case I worked on. The rest of the building seems to be inhabited, but I’d still recommend a police check,” he continued. Toshinori winced as Aizawa’s attempt at talking at a steady pace started to fall apart towards the end of his last sentence. And a boy? A literal child had been thrown into the League’s plan, no wonder Aizawa was stirred up, especially considering how his class was attacked by this same organisation. Any one of them could’ve been taken in the attack and ended up in this position.

As the unneeded heroes started to depart and the police force efficiently made their way into the abandoned bar, Yagi himself decided it was about time to head off. Considering he didn’t take part in the actual event, he wouldn’t have to do the debriefing, and who knows? He may still have time for one decent fight, time to stop at least one robbery.

And it as he turned away to seek out this one final event for his day, so he could at least return to his lonely flat with some sense of accomplishment, that he saw the boy’s face.

The whole world stopped.

That was the boy he’d been looking for. After the sludge villain he’d gone searching all over the city for three days to try and apologise to him for what he’d said before (such a hypocrite, telling a kid to give on his dreams of being a hero cause he’s quirkless!), and to offer him One for All. But Toshinori had never found him, had thrown in the towel, declaring it a lost cause, and this was why: the League had fucking _kidnapped_ him while All Might was off having his little pity party about losing the quirk that wasn’t his in the first place!

Toshinori lept over the police cars to land by Aizawa’s side and began talking before Aizawa could deny him, ignoring the taste of iron lacing the inside of his mouth, “That kid! What exactly happened to him? Is he okay?”

Aizawa blinked in mild surprise, before replying in a steadier, colder tone than his previous one, his eyes narrowing, “He was taken by the League around 11 months ago, it’s not the type of case _you’d_ be alerted about.” Ouch. That was supposed to hurt. Aizawa had made it clear he didn’t like the more…centre stage heroes, a definition that suited All Might to a tee, and he was not one to hide his opinions.

Aizawa continued talking: “And for your information, his injuries aren’t as severe as they first seemed, just some dislocated joints, a broken left arm and a gash from his left side that I’m guessing was caused by Shigaraki touching…”

Toshinori found himself zoning out. 11 months? That meant he could’ve been taken while All Might was looking for him. If that’s the case… god, why did Yagi have to be so _damn incompetent_?! If he’d searched just a little bit longer, a little bit harder, none of this would have happened! For 11 months the boy had been with some of the most violence-loving criminals in modern Japan, and if Tsukauchi’s theory was correct and…he…was a part of this…Toshinori looked at the young boy’s face; despite being unconscious the kid had a massive smile (there was no joy in that smile, it barely counted as a smile by default) plastered on his face. It was…concerning, to say the least.

“All Might?”

Toshinori looked up from the boy to meet an irritated Aizawa. “S-sorry, can you repeat that last part?” he asked sheepishly, which was an emotion hard to bring across in his muscular form, ending up with him looking more awkward than anything.

Aizawa rolled his eyes, let out a huff of air and spoke again, “As I was saying, the main issue seems to be with his mental state, from which he so far appears to be in one of the worst traumatic states I’ve seen in… a long time.” Now Aizawa was the one looking down at the boy in his arms “...perhaps ever.”

After a moment of silence between the two teachers, Aizawa raised an eyebrow, re-establishing eye contact with Yagi “Do you know this kid or something?”

“Not really, I saved him a while back from a villain with a sludge quirk. He was quirkless, I believe?” Aizawa didn’t answer, just twitched his left eye. Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly (he might as well use this moment to clear out the bubbles of blood he felt forming) and continued, “He asked me if he could be a hero and I replied with an answer I regretted, especially after watching him attempt to save his friend.” He could feel Aizawa’s glare burning through him as he spoke despite refusing to look directly at him as he continued his recollection. Aizawa was right to be angry, he’d basically discriminated on the quirkless, jumping to conclusions before even learning about the kid behind the label, “I tried to track him down afterwards to apologise and….make an offer, but I never found him.”

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, before saying “Well, as touching as your story is, I need to get this boy to hospital quickly before he wakes up. If you remember anything useful about the boy’s case, tell the police. See you at work, All Might.”

Toshinori blinked. Of course, why was he telling this now? The most important thing was to get this boy the medical attention he needs. “Goodbye Eraserhead!”, All Might called out as Aizawa started heading towards one of the nearby ambulances.

He watched a team of paramedics take the poor child (he’d been through so much and All Might could’ve prevented all of it!) from Aizawa’s arms, laying him carefully down on the fold out bed within the ambulance, immediately placing 2 IV drips into his arms (he looked so thin, and the pain must be unbearable).

Toshinori sighed as the door closed and the sirens started going off. “What did they do to you, young Midoriya?” he whispered to the night air, hoping he would find out before it’s too late for him to do anything at all to help the child his heart had chosen.


	2. Maternal Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Inko is a beautiful cinnamon roll who exists...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: No! This is my fanfic! I'm in control here!
> 
> My word count: betch u thought-
> 
> In other words, I kept on adding scenes into this chapter until I decided to split it into 2....god I can just tell I'm gonna be an awful writer!

It took about 4 hours of searching through files to find out the boy’s family contact number; Shouta had started off by looking through the missing children section, then tried adults just in case, followed by unsolved cases, before finally finding him among the diseased children (Jesus that section of the hero and crime law system needed to be sorted out, there had been a funeral for this boy and everything!), his eyes and body longing to return to his yellow sleeping bag that he’d left in the staff room earlier that day. His name was Midoriya Izuku (Midoriya, Midoriya, he needed to drill that name in for good this time), and he only had one emergency number.

Shouta frowned at the data in front of him. It seemed like there was another emergency number up until a few months ago, probably two or three months after the boy’s own disappearance, now instead of a name and number saying ‘[contact deleted]’. What type of relative would stop contact with someone when their family went missing?

He sighed as he pinched between his eyebrows. It was too late for this, Yamada would be wondering where he is. He read the remaining contacts name:

‘Midoriya Inko’

Another Midoriya? So blood relative then. Possibly a mother? Older sister? Just the thought of what she must be going through ten folded Aizawa’s headache, especially considering the lack of other names – what if the erased contact was the parents or other parent, leaving this ‘Inko’ to mourn the loss of Midoriya Izuku alone?

Shouta blinked. He was officially losing it – what the hell was he even doing!? Shouta attempted to recount the last time he slept (he’d been searching the files after taking Midoriya to the hospital for a few hours, he had been on the case since midday when he was called from teaching, which before then he’d done an overnight undercover case after preparing his class for the sports festival next week while also looking into the League of Villains case; overall slightly more than three days of consciousness, surviving only on shocks from Hizashi and enough coffee to kill any man other than himself). That could explain why he seemed to be creating _a fucking backstory_ for a woman he hadn’t even seen! Either way, he could go home soon, he would just make this final phone call, take the train back to his and Yamada’s place and go comatose for the next 24 hours (thank god tomorrow is a Sunday).

As Shouta pressed the call button on his mobile he glanced at the time and realised his mistake: it was 2:47. He was just about to hang up on the ringing number when a muffled, yet (worryingly) alert voice answered, “H-hello? Is th-there anything I can do for you?”

“Midoriya Inko?” Aizawa asked warily.

“Y-yes?”

Shouta sighed again. This was not gonna be a pleasant conversation. “My name is Aizawa, I’m a pro hero who’s calling from the Kamino Ward General Hospital,” he might as well start with his introduction, he doubted she would be thinking straight after receiving the news, “and I need confirmation of your relation to Midoriya Izuk-“

A loud yelp and the sound of a cup smashing cut Aizawa off, followed by the sounds of a woman breaking out into heaving, ugly sobs. This was _definitely_ the boy’s mother.

“Midoriya-san…?” Shouta said cautiously. He didn’t know what was happening on the other end of the call, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good “Are you okay?”

This question was followed by about a minute of silence on both ends, only broken by the laboured, uneven breaths coming from the distraught woman. After regaining a small amount of emotional control, she gasped out a soft “W…W-Where….?”

“Kamino Ward General Hospital,” Shouta repeated, trying his best to sound calm and comforting, though he was pretty sure he ended up sounding as bored and monotone as always, “We found your son in the main known base of the League of Villains,” he paused for a second as another wail of absolute heartbreak escaped at the mention of the well-known villain group. “We found him around 5 hours ago, and his physical condition appears stable, however- “

“I’m on my way.” the adult Midoriya almost whimpered into the phone, before hanging up on the exhausted man.

Shit. Now what should Aizawa do: he has a woman coming from Musutafu (at least that’s where the file said her house was located) with no idea what she was going to find when she got here: in the time Shouta had been searching through the online and solid paper files a nurse had reported that Midoriya had regained consciousness and had immediately returned to the state he’d found him in. Shouta may have technically done all he needed to for his job (he’d found the boy, filed the paperwork for the mission and the boy’s capture, as well as alerted the emergency contacts of the boy’s rescue. He deserved to go home, he deserved to sleep and forget about the mess of the last few days and let his USJ wounds heal just that little bit more.

But he was stuck thinking about Midoriya’s mother (a woman he’d never met idiot!), and how she would react to her son’s condition. She didn’t let Shouta finish, so she’ll have no clue what to expect. He could already picture the look of shock and terror on the woman’s face as she ran into the hospital jut to find the remainders of her son, the thing that had replaced him, the thing with the dead yet alive yet dark yet light eyes and that ugly, strained smile that stretched so far it was a wonder his teeth didn’t just fall straight out from the pull on his gums. He couldn’t just let her find her child in this state with no explanation.

Though, considering he’d never actually seen the woman the image he pictured was more likely just the delusions setting in that came along with exhaustion and the caffeine overdose Shouta was 70% certain he was dying of at this moment.

Shouta stumbled away from the computer, trying to use what little focus he could manage to make his way up to the almost empty waiting room. He could last another few hours, he thought to himself, just as he tripped over a small coffee table, landing on a (luckily empty) line of chairs and falling asleep before his head hit the cold, hard plastic seat below.

(0_0)

Shouta woke up with a start, snapped from whatever dream he’d been having as if he’d been slapped, pains from his past injuries making themselves known immediately in the form of small aches and stabs thrumming through his body. He looked around bewilderedly in an attempt to find what had forced him from his sleep (way too soon he should just turn over and forget it the hospital could deal with it) when his eyes came across the woman crying hysterically at the stunned receptionist at the other side of the room.

It was clear who she was, if the dark green hair and overall striking resemblance to the old picture of the boy was anything to go by. Shouta slowly slid his way off the row of chairs he’d been hogging for the last (the clock on the wall above the receptionist’s desk said 4:32) couple hours and stretched upwards, wincing slightly as he felt his joints pop and crack in complaint to his sudden movement. He took a deep breath before heading over to Midoriya Inko.

“Midoriya-san?”

The woman turned to him, eyes wide with recognition from his voice alone. She was sleep deprived, was the first thought that entered Shouta’s head as he regarded the plump woman in front of him, her deep bags standing out harshly in comparison to her other softer features. His second thought was that she was clinging onto his shirt, making him shift awkwardly in place. Shouta didn’t normally like much physical contact, especially not from strangers, but considering what this woman had been through for the last 11 months, he’d make an acceptation just this once.

“Midoriya-san, you’re here to see your son, is that correct?” Aizawa continued, trying to ignore how the women leaned her head onto his chest, getting the front of his baggy hero costume wet.

Inko sniffed before looking up at him, her eyes still overflowing with tears of sadness and relief and worry and _overwhelming joy_ (it was going to crush her his state was going to crush her), before nodding her head frantically.

Shouta sighed, shutting his eyes tightly for a few seconds. There were other safety procedures he was meant to go through before letting someone visit a family member in such a condition…but it felt cruel to force this lonely mother to stay away from her son any longer. “Please come this way,” he huffed. He’d just sort out the paperwork for her visit later. However…

“I feel like I have to inform you of something before you see your son again,” Shouta said, looking directly at the woman who had moved to clinging his arm as they started to walk, clutching it as if the limb was her final lifeline, which was hindering him more than it should due to the spiking pains running through his legs with every step (maybe he should finally take Recovery Girl’s advice and relax more).

“W-What?” He could already see some of the joy in her eyes beginning to fade into concern and worry at Aizawa’s words. “I-Is he hurt? W-well h-he was w-with the L-League so i-it makes sense I-I g-guess -“

“As I said on the phone, he is physically stable and will be fine in due time.” He interrupted her, stopping her from falling down the rabbit hole of worries she seemed to of buried herself into in a single second. He should watch his wording choices more in the future.

However Inko seemed to already be reviewing his previous sentence, immediately picking up on the wording choice that made her obviously uncomfortable, “Phy-Physically…? W-What about m-mentally?”

Shouta looked away from her. He wasn’t good at dealing with emotions, especially other peoples, and he didn’t know what to do once he told Inko about her son’s…. change. “Mentally… is a different issue. He’s not very present currently (or at all), though there is a high chance he’ll at least vaguely improve after he’s calmed down a bit.”

He refused to look at the woman, but he could feel her hands shaking from where they were attached to his arm. She was silent, even her breathing was too quiet for Shouta to hear. He started to think he wasn’t going to get a reaction to his words when he heard in a chillingly calm and steady voice:

“Let me see my son. Now.”

They were outside the door now, there was no delaying. Shouta decided he might as well rip off the band aid and show her Midoriya Izuku, instead of elongating her pain further. With a sigh he slid open the door as the woman who had been glued to his side since arriving at the hospital let go and ran towards the broken vessel of her son.

“Izu – sweetie! D-don’t worry darling I’m here! It’s okay now, it’s okay…” She cried out, throwing her stubby arms around him. Shit. Any second now she was going to see. She was going to see what had become of her son and Aizawa would have to watch another person’s life crumble to pieces before his eyes. All she had to do was look up and-

“Heroes smile they do w-we must smile, I m-must smile smile!”

The exclamation seeped out from between gritted teeth, no reaction on the mask of a face that a new person had arrived, the only signs of any awareness being the words themselves.

That was one improvement since his re-awakening: Midoriya had stifled his endless stream of insanity into a steady flow of quiet murmurs under his breath, only raising his voice when others were nearby. That showed some form of awareness, right? That counted for something, right?

But the words were still meaningless. The eyes were still glazed, unseeing and yet seeing all at the same time, and the smile (not a smile that’s not a smile) hadn’t budged an inch.

Inko looked up at the source of the incoherent sentences, her eyes widening as she caught sight of her son’s expression, saw for the first time how Izuku’s eyes had faded to putrid green pinpricks in eyes wrenched too wide open, unblinking and bloodshot, witnessed the feral grimace he bore, blood encasing his molars that no amount of cleaning from the nurses could remove.

She looked at the scars and bandages covering everything from his limbs to his torso to the singular scar running from the base of his neck to just below his right cheekbone. She looked at the bloodied bandages around his abdomen.

Aizawa could only stand rooted to a spot between the doorway and the crisp hospital bed as a morbid realisation swept away the relief the woman had been filled with moments earlier. She stared at the being that was once her son as he let out a small, entertained giggle while whispering his nonsensical exclamations under his breath, before slowly turning her head to face Shouta, her eyes overflowing with the same absolute fear and shock he had felt himself, her legs giving out under her, leaving the woman kneeling beside the bed with her arms still latched onto her son’s left arm. The rest of her face was as still and stiff as a stone statue, completely blank and unmoving except for the single tear rolling down her right cheek as she whispered in a quaking voice, “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with my son?”

And suddenly Aizawa was being pushed back by the mere emotion present in her eyes: there was more than just fear there, an emotion so much more powerful had torn through all the other layers of mixed feelings as if they were no more than tissue paper.

That emotion was never-ending, unbridled _sadness_.

Shouta gave himself a second to blink and order his words, opening and closing his mouth like a badly used ventriloquist dummy. He needed to go soon or he would collapse of exhaustion where he stood, which would not be ideal for him, the nurses or Mrs Midoriya to say the least. He opened his mouth a final time and gave the most analytical, neutral response he could manage in the moment, a mix of his own opinion and what the nurses and doctors had informed him of; “As far as we can tell he’s entered some sort of detached state, maybe to stop further mental damage. We can’t tell for sure though until he’s calmed down, he’s still on edge from the entire experience.”

Inko continued to stare at him, letting out an overly loud incredulous laugh (Aizawa started to wonder how he’d managed to mess up a such a simple sentence, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it). Before he could attempt to figure out where he’d gone wrong, the trembling mother spoke, “Well of course he is! He’s been held captive by villains for 11 months! He’s _quirkless_ , he can’t protect himself against a force like that!” Her face morphed into a look of bitterness and anger, an expression that looked wrong on her soft features. “Do they at least know why he was taken in the first place? Why they felt the need to torture my baby!?” She was clearly angered, her trembling turning from fear to enragement, a glint of determination appearing in her eyes that wasn’t there moments previously.

“Nothing has been confirmed yet,” was all Shouta could say in response.

Honestly, neither the police of heroes seemed to have much of an idea why Midoriya was targeted in particular: it wasn’t like his grades were outstanding enough to attract attention. Maybe they thought he’d be an easy recruitment, vulnerable from how society treated him (yes, the hero system was fucked up, especially when it came to treatment of those with villainous quirks or nothing at all, but there wasn’t much Shouta could do about that from the shadows)? But what use would they have for someone quirkless even if he was on their side?

The woman’s eyebrows furrowed further, eyes glaring at Shouta with surprising sternness despite the tears continuously leaking out, “That’s not good enough,” she said in a tone similar to the undisputable, strict one Aizawa used himself to shut down his students. “I need to know why the hell they’d do this to a child who hasn’t done anything to deserve this, ever! I know my son, he was the kindest, most forgiving person you’ll ever meet.”

Mrs Midoriya’s hands had slipped from their grip on Izuku’s vessel, instead clutching so hard onto the white linen of the hospitals bedsheets that Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if they ripped. Her voice was gaining volume, hysteria bubbling up her throat as she said, “So why, out of all people, did my son have to receive the short straw, AGAIN!”

The room was left in a ringing silence, only broken by the steady, slow (too slow for someone in trauma) beep of Midoriya’s heart monitor. Shouta’s world was going fuzzy at the edges, static impairing his vision as he started giving the silently sobbing mother a pointless, impersonal speech that he knew would do nothing to help, just as he subconsciously wondered if he was even going to make it home before passing out.

“I’m sorry Mrs Midoriya, we’ll do all we can to support-“

“Just go away.” she gasped through the waves of sadness and grief that were wracking her body, lowering her head onto the bed beside Midoriya’s left arm, the chair behind her ignored as she continued kneeling, “Just for a few minutes. Let me have this moment with my son. Please.”

Aizawa stayed still for a moment, before slowly turning and trudging out of the room, the pains of movement overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion. That was a good enough dismissal, right? She asked him to go, so he went. His job was done, he could go home and _sleep_. He took out his phone to call Yamada and vaguely noted that the time was 5:16 (Hizashi should be getting back from his night shift at the radio station, maybe he should ask for a lift instead?) as he stumbled back to the waiting room, his eyes becoming less and less focused as he fell into the same uncomfortable plastic seat as before.

He scrolled through his contacts as fast as he could, the names blurring on the screen. Shit, he need to do this quickly.

“c’mon…..c’mon…” he sleepily thought to himself as he continued down the list. He wasn’t sure he was gonna find it in time until…

“Pick the fuck up, idiot,” Shouta grumbled to himself as he place the phone next to his ear, receiving a concerned look along with a mutter saying “dude, chill, I don’t know why you’re in such a big time rush,” from the man across from him as he shut his eyes and dumped his face into the chair next to him, focusing only on the ringing from the phone beside his ear.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring..

“-Shouta! Where are you?!” a voice screeched from the other end of the line, quirk obviously activated, “God, I’ve been so worried! The news said the case was a bust, is that true?! Did you get caught in another fight?! Where are you, I’m coming right now don’t you worry bro I’m- “

“Hey… Yamamalala…” slurred Aizawa, cutting off his worried friend. Damn, thinking had suddenly become way harder than it had any right to be.

“Sho?” Hizashi replied, voice lace with confusion and concern for his delirious friend.

“I’m…I’m good. At, ugh, Kamino…. Hospital …place? Whatever, I don’t fucking know?” he mumbled out through barely parting lips, “Can you, um…come?”

“Shouta, you better not be hurt again so soon or I’m gonna scream in your face until your ears bleed- “

“Nah, nah, Yamada, I’m good.” He really wasn’t, but he needed to get his friend to stop worrying and get here ASAP, “I… need a lift…find my corpse in the…waiting…room….”

“SHOUTA!?” screeched Yamada, with little to no idea on what the hell was going on, unaware that his roommate had finally passed out, his arm with his phone in it falling from his face to drooping off the side of the chair onto the floor below.

“Shouta, don’t worry, I’m on my way you crazy son of a bitch!” Hizashi yelled to the silence on the other side of the call, just as the last details of reality fled Aizawa’s mind, leaving behind nothing but vast expanses of darkness infiltrated with sharp glimpses of dead eyes and tortured smiles.

(0_0)

Aizawa groaned as his foggy brain slowly returned from the comfy, safe place of sleep to the disappointment usually known as life. He stretched his arms out to the side, wincing as even the small movement caused a decent amount of pain, just to find a mattress underneath him rather than the cheap row of chairs he’d fallen asleep. Warily he forced one of his eyes to half open, revealing to him that he was indeed curled up on a plain white double bed with his black bedside drawer beside it, his case notes and picture of Hizashi and him from school times still perched on top.

Oh…so he was home. Yamada must of understood enough of what he said to successfully find the place.

Shouta turned over, groaning again as more injured areas of his body made themselves known while he felt around to find his phone, eyes shutting tightly as the sun from the window across from him shot the sun into them. After several seconds of awkwardly patting his bed, he found the device (of course it was beside his head the whole time, just where it normally was) and hid under the duvet before opening his eyes again.

5:47, around 12 hours and a half of uninterrupted sleep (minus the disturbing flashbacks to the day before). That would have to do until he got his sleeping bag back from UA.

He let out another groan before slowly removing the duvet, attempting wake himself up just that little bit faster so he could get on with whatever work he could for the rest of the day: Sundays were a busy day for heroes, with criminals becoming more active as the workdays drew to a close (though maybe he’d relax slightly today, his damaged nerves and muscles needed a break to heal more before fully immersing himself into his job), and he’d wasted so much time yesterday night with _that_ , he needed to go and check he even wrote the right paperwork in that state he was in.

Wait, yesterday…

He thought to himself. Something felt wrong about how he left things that night (well the whole situation was wrong, but something he did in particular), leaving Shouta contemplating over his conversation with Mrs Midoriya, the memories of the event feeling distorted from exhaustion and the traumatic effect of the night. What was it that he said or did? She sent him away, their interaction was over, his job was complete; so why did he feel this deep sense of urgency surge through his veins like adrenaline at the thought of the woman and her son. Just what did he miss…

Suddenly he shot up, the missing piece of the puzzle clicking into place, as he (vaguely) recalled Mrs Midoriya say:

_“Just go away. Just for a few minutes. Let me have this moment with my son. Please.”_

“Just for a few minutes.”

“Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” Shouta practically fell out of bed and started scrambling around his room to find his clothes, pain long forgotten, just to realise he’d never got out of them. Why did he take that as a dismissal!? She clearly expected him to come back, she might have needed support – shit of course she needed support! The son of hers who everyone had believed to be dead had just been found, just for it to be revealed that he was only the same son by name. Why was he so stupid when he was tired(er)?!

After grabbing his capture weapon from where Hizashi had placed it the night before (on top of the study desk in the corner used for late night marking), Shouta sprinted out the room, across the corridor, past the kitchen-living room-hybrid, and to the front door. However, before he had managed to unlock the door in his somewhat bleary state, a voice behind him said:

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Turning back around, he was greeted by the face of a rather pissed off Yamada wearing a casual grey top with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the radio station’s obnoxious orange symbol emblazoned on the front. He wore tight black jeans with a black chained belt reminiscent of his hero costume, and had his hair tied back in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face with a pair of rectangular glasses perched on the top of his head.

And to put emphasis on it: he was _pissed_.

“Kitchen. Now.” The fuming man turned without giving a second glance back at his friend, a sternness in his eyes that told Shouta he was in deep shit. Taking a deep sigh, he slunk after his loud roommate into their shared kitchen: the space was cleaner than expected, considering two busy pro heroes lived there, the white polished surfaces gleaming from the sun shining through the window.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself?” Yamada said, glaring at Shouta with a look promising imminent death. His voice was quiet (for Hizashi, anyways) as if the man was quietly threatening him instead of asking him a question (honestly, considering the situation he could be doing both).

“I’m sorry for calling you?” Shouta guessed. There were a lot of things he did the night before that he should apologise for, but the question was which one had got Hizashi so riled up.

“WHAT TH- NO MAN!!!!!” was the response Aizawa received (and it was at that moment he knew…he’d fucked up), Yamada yelling with his quirk activated, slightly shaking the apartment, “THAT’S NOT THE PROBLEM SHOUTA, IT’S THAT-“

Yamada stopped talking, shut up by Shouta’s quirk. He took a second to breathe, before continuing at a much more acceptable volume, “You come off an injury, go straight into the League’s case while also finishing off your undercover job with the Yakuza. At the same time you’re spending you’re days teaching classes, not even sleeping in you breaks like usually do, just to then face off against the League!”

Shouta sighed, stoking a hand through his hair, “Zashi- “

Yamada cut back in, clearly not done with his rant, “And then what? The news says the case was a bust, but you still don’t come home, leaving no call, no text, nothing! So I spend my night worrying away, just to receive a call at _five in the morning_ from you, which, by the way, you sounded like you were either drunk or dying during, telling me to come pick you up from a hospital an hour away! Oh, and thanks for your specific instructions of _“hospital thing”_ ; I ended up searching the AnE heroes section for HALF AN HOUR before finding you passed out in the regular patient’s waiting room!”

“Hizashi, listen- “

“NO YOU LISTEN SHO!!! AND NO MORE COFFEE!!!” Hizashi shrieked as he yanked the cup Aizawa had found during his monologue out of his hands. “So then I have to haul your unconscious ass to the car, drive you home, and carry you up TWENTY EIGHT FLIGHTS OF STAIRS AS THE ELAVATOR’S FUCKING BROKEN AGAIN!!!!!” Yamada had started using his quirk again, the stolen mug imprinted with a cute cat design in his hands vibrating from the pressure made by his shouts, leading to Shouta quickly activating his quirk; he liked that mug, he didn’t want his friend to break this one too.

As Yamada’s voice returned, Shouta decided to speak, “I’m sorry, I know I should’ve called you about what was going on, but I got distracted. The case was pretty serious, I was just focused on sorting it out before I went home.”

Hizashi seemed to finally relax, releasing any remaining tension and anger as he pulled his best friend into a hug. “I know you wouldn’t mean to upset me, Sho. But you were just about to leave again, without even telling me what had even happened! Just…try not to get so hyper-focused during these things, okay?”

They stayed like that for a few moments, the house in absolute silence, before Yamada pulled away and sat down in one of their kitchen stools, leaning on the table beside him by his elbows, a trace of concern appearing in his face, “But ‘serious’, you say? What happened? Did you get hurt?”

“No, I was fine.” Shouta stated plainly, taking a seat next to him, “I can’t tell you much about the case, it’s been kept secret from both the public and most heroes legally, at least for now.”

“Oh…” mumbled the other pro, his head lowering as a small, sad smile appeared on his face, making Aizawa inwardly wince. This was one of the drawbacks of being an underground hero: most of the cases he took part in had legalities that meant he couldn’t talk about it afterwards. While not a problem in itself, it made things…awkward, meaning Shouta couldn’t talk to anyone, even Hizashi, about his everyday life, making unneeded tension between the two of them that they just couldn’t seem to shake off.

It was the main reason things just never worked out between them, that was for sure.

The voice hero’s smile extended slightly, becoming less sad and more one of genuine care, “Hey, even if you can’t tell me what happened, you can still talk to me if it affected you, you know, like emotional support and stuff?” he said, holding eye contact with Shouta until his messy haired friend looked away, uncomfortable.

“I know,” he mumbled as a response, not really knowing what to say to Yamada’s heartfelt speech.

The two were left in silence for a few seconds, until the loud blonde piped up, his cheery persona back in place, “Well if you need to go, at least have some toast before you go, maybe some painkillers for your injuries – which I know aren’t fully healed Sho, so don’t even try hiding that from me! You know what, have some water as well, you need it after only absorbing coffee for so long!”

(0_0)

Toshinori was standing just outside the door to young Midoriya’s hospital room in his skeleton form, looking in from the doorway while refusing to step any closer to the boy: he didn’t deserve to see the boy again, he really didn’t, considering it was his fault in the first place that the boy was taken in the first place (well maybe not exactly but he was trying to find him at the time he should’ve done better he’s the number one hero for God’s sake!).

He wasn’t meant to be in the room anyways; as far as people knew he had little to no link to the case, and he couldn’t come up with a good excuse for why he would know Midoriya that didn’t involve One for All or his search for a successor.

So instead here Toshinori stood, looking like a right old fool as he peered in to view the remains of the boy he wanted to know and his mother, attempting to not get noticed like the coward he was.

Aizawa still wasn’t in however, which made Yagi frown slightly. He knew the other hero had come to the hospital the night before, and of course he was going to return home to rest after the case, but it was getting rather late for his return. Surely Aizawa hadn’t stopped with the case here with this woman still in obvious pain – that wasn’t the type of hero he’d taken him to be.

As if on cue, Toshinori heard the sound of quickly approaching footsteps squeaking on the while tiled hallway, which belonged to the hero in question (Toshinori felt himself inwardly cringe at the slight limp the man had from the USJ attack). He felt himself tense as he realised how Aizawa must see him in this situation: creepily watching a distraught mother and son from a distance, and immediately raised his large hands an started waving them around in an awkward manner, desperately trying to think of any way to make this appear less stalkerish.

However the underground hero didn’t say anything about Toshinori’s current…position, instead looking him up and down disapprovingly: as a staff member of UA Eraserhead had been alerted to his less impressive form, which only seemed to increase his dislike for the Symbol of Peace (of course it did it proved Aizawa’s point of flashier heroes being less legit). After a few seconds of silence and clear judgement in which Toshinori wanted no more than to be sucked up by Thirteen’s quirk and disappear forever, Aizawa tutted out a quiet “Pathetic,” under his breath before grabbing the embarrassed mess that was Yagi by the hand and dragging him into the room.

The woman (the boy’s mother, so Mrs Midoriya?) looked up from her sitting position beside her son with a start, not seeming to have noticed the two men approaching until they were by the other side of Midoriya’s bed. She smiled weakly at Aizawa, eyes bloodshot and dried paths of saline still clear on her face.

“Hello again, um, Eraserhead-sama.” Toshinori felt Aizawa shift uncomfortably at the choice of honorific, along with her knowledge of the man’s hero name (then again considering young Midoriya’s past obsession with heroes that was less surprising), “I’m sorry for my behaviour last night, especially after you saved my son. I realise I was acting rather ungrateful…”

Aizawa and Toshinori could only stare at the woman in disbelief as _she_ looked guiltily down to the floor, as if she was the one who messed up finding her son. Next to him Toshinori heard a quiet mutter of “What the - you literal saint?”

She continued her (completely unnecessary and truly baffling) speech, at least realising she might need to explain herself a bit more, “It’s just up until yesterday I believed I didn’t even have a son anymore.” To both men’s dismay she started to tear up again, “Just for him to finally be returned to me. No matter what state he’s in, I have more of him than I believed I’d ever have again, and he’s still my son, no matter what.” Toshinori felt like his one remaining lung was being squeezed and twisted empty as her eyes overflowed and tears raced down her cheeks (she didn’t deserve this, her son didn’t deserve this, if only he’d done better), “Then instead of being thankful for having my Izu back, I instead take out my feelings on you and kick you out!”

Yagi could not believe this woman: she was so utterly selfless (just like her son who _he_ should’ve found sooner) it would be unbelievable if it weren’t for the sobs of pained emotions escaping her as she spoke. Before Mrs Midoriya could continue her apology, she turned with confusion to Toshinori, suddenly stifling her emotions and appearing wary of his presence, “And who is this…?”

(Okay, quick thinking time Toshi, he needed a reason for why the hell he was here, seeing a boy who the public, any heroes not present, and even most of the police authority wasn’t supposed to know about yet. He could be part of the police, but why-)

“He was an investigator on your son’s case along with me,” Aizawa cut through Yagi’s not-so-effective thought process with an improvised lie of his own, “He just had to come with me today as despite Midoriya’s conditions, I have been told to attempt an “interrogation” with him for information on the League.” Wait – that second part was only a half lie!? The anger and irritation lacing Aizawa’s voice told him he meant what he was saying about talking to the young boy but – what? Seriously?! Even if it had to be done for legal reasons surely there should be an exception for cases like Midoriya’s – it would be a waste of hero’s time and a painful reminder to Mrs Midoriya of her son’s conditions. It was outrageous!

Aizawa and Mrs (purest of all saints) Midoriya seemed to agree with his mindset, with the mother’s face quickly falling from confusion to anger, her brow furrowing deeply, and Aizawa muttering darkly “It seems unsurprisingly the police system fails treat mental health villain-related activities correctly, only focusing on the physical elements. Typical.” At that moment Toshinori promised to himself that he was going to talk with Detective Tsukauchi about sorting out the laws regarding villain’s victims.

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his full attention back to the woman sitting at the other side of the bed, “So, Midoriya-san, should we get this over and done with quickly?”

“Yes please, but isn’t this other guy going to do the questioning or-?”

“He’s only here as a police witness, that’s all.” Aizawa answered, cutting off Mrs Midoriya to Toshinori’s distaste. Then again the less Midoriya questions Toshinori’s presence the less likely he’d be found out (wait why had Aizawa pushed him into this in the first place?).

Midoriya Inko turned to look at the somehow-undercover-number-one-hero, who simply nodded his head in confirmation to Aizawa’s statement, not trusting himself to talk as he’d never been great at lying; ironic considering the amount of secrets he had. She returned her gaze to Aizawa, seemingly fully trusting in the duo, making tendrils of guilt coil slightly inside him due to how quickly she trusted them.

The underground hero blinked once at her, before turning to young Midoriya lying in the bed (the person both heroes had been attempting to not look at since entering the room), who had been completely still this whole time minus the small shuddering movements that appeared in his shoulders when he giggled to himself among his quiet murmuring. Toshinori had the uncomfortable feeling that the bandaged boy hadn’t even blinked.

Aizawa cleared his throat. “Midoriya Izuku.”

The shell of a boy didn’t acknowledge his name, glazed eyes still staring straight ahead at the wall opposite. The only indication of any awareness was a raise in volume, from the quiet whispers under his breath to an almost normal talking volume. That was better than the day before, that showed at least the most basic form of spatial awareness, even if he couldn’t comprehend what he saw, Toshinori hoped to himself.

His hope quickly sank as he saw the other two’s reaction, or lack thereof. Maybe it’s been like this since his reawakening.

Midoriya continued his rambling: “Sm-smile. Must smile.”

“Why?” Aizawa questioned, attempting to see if following the boy’s mixed up logic would lead to any form of breakthrough.

However the boy just kept mumbling, even his heart rate staying steady as he continued talking to no one in the room, “Hero’s m-must smile. Must smile. Shigs don’t want smile.”

Midoriya (or the thing that replaced him) let out a loud giggle that put all three adults on edge from the insanity it radiated off. Mrs Midoriya grabbed her son’s arm, not daring to move it due to the variety of hospital drips, needles and equipment stuck into it, “Please Izuku, try to answer the question honey.” Her face scrunched up as she tried to conceal the sadness her son’s non-stop giggles were causing her.

It was clear this was a lost cause, it had been from the start. Toshinori waited for Aizawa to officially say it so that he, as the ‘police investigator’ could leave and try to forget the echoes of senseless laughter that was already bouncing around his skull. Aizawa seemed to have different ideas, as he asked the boy another question, “Who is Shigs? Do you mean Shigaraki? What do you remember of your time with the League?”

The change was clear in a second, the heart monitor spiking from an average 70bpm to a rather worrying 125. His shoulders tensed up, and while he didn’t stop looking at the wall ahead, his eyes somehow widened even further. His pupils dilating into pinpricks. The smile stayed the exact same.

“No no no no NO NO SHIGS NEED TO SMILE.” The boy’s voice quickly rose into a shriek, sounding disturbingly happy despite what he was saying, loud bursts of laughter emerging between words. As Toshinori watched in horror he began to thrash around, knocking out all the carefully inserted needles, the heart monitor reading a zero as the stain of red on his torso grew from the movement. As the boy continued slamming his limbs up, down and around as fast as his weak, injured body would allow, all the while cackling manically, a nurse in the hallway overheard the noise and ran in.

“Shit!” the lady shouted as she ran to Midoriya’s (was that even Midoriya anymore?) side, pushing aside the two shocked pros. She immediately took the emergency anaesthesia drip and stabbed it into his arm. Within seconds the young boy was falling asleep: “MUST SMILE, SMILE, SMILE, S-SMile, smile…” until he finally collapsed backwards onto the hospital bed.

The nurse immediately activated her quirk, alerting all the nearby nurses to come quickly to help reapply the needles (kinda pointless as the detachment of the equipment alerted them anyways, Toshinori thought), and the three dumbfounded adults were told to move out the room in the meantime.

The moment they stepped out the room, Mrs Midoriya collapsed in a fit of tears and shock.

Once she calmed down slightly (with help from both men), she stood up and turned to Aizawa.

And slapped him right in the face.

(0_0)

(Lil Author’s Note: This is happening at the same time as the scene before, just to help avoid confusion)

Izuku tried to stare back at the people sitting beside his bed. He was Izuku, wasn’t he? The woman called him that. He wondered who the woman was, she was crying next to the man who was saying something. That’s not good, she must be scared SCARED OF SHIGS. He must smile at her. Heroes smile to make others smile. Shigs didn’t like the smiling, so the smiling must be good, right? He would smile and the woman would smile and they could all just smile SMILE smile at Shigs!

No the man and woman can’t meet Shigs Shigs is bad they couldn’t smile at Shigs. Only Izuku could smile as only Izuku knew the funny behind the words and Shigs would hurt them Shigs bad BAD SHIGS NO CAN’T SHIGS BAD BAD SMILE TO UPSET SHIGS FUNNY UPSET SHIGS

The man said something else and Izuku’s mouth said something in reply. Words were funny, weren’t they? Izuku didn’t understand the ones that came from himself or the man, but they made him laugh. Laughter was funny too, wasn’t it? That made him laugh more. Why was no one else smiling or laughing, it was so much fun to laugh! They couldn’t all be scared, could they? The man and woman were talking, how scared must they be to not find it funny? And the thin man standing behind them, with the yellow hair, Izuku thought he should definitely be smiling. Maybe that man was a hero? How scary must it be for the hero to stop smiling? Scarier than Shigs? NOT POSSIBLE BAD SHIGS Oh well then, Izuku would just have to smile enough for everyone, to show them it was okay! Their fear would numb, just like it did for Izuku! They’d realise that it is silly to fear things when it is all so funny! They will soon see how funny this is, with the talking and laughter and Shigs hiding just out of their sight SHIGS STILL THERE SHIGS ALWAYS THERE – how could they not? Until that time comes Izuku will play the hero part, just like he did for Shigs. Maybe Shigs was playing again right now GAMES FUNNY BAD GAMES FUNNY? He will smile and smile and laugh and say the funny words and smile until all their fear is pushed away and they smile and laugh together at the funny things! Now that was a funny idea!

Izuku laughed as needles were forced under his skin and his eyes were forced shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I learnt: writing from a messed up Izuku's point of view is so weirdly fun.  
> Also might edit this tomorrow as haven't really proof read, but I just wanted to post before I went to bed!


	3. Underestimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa learns a little more about the Midoriya's past!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, bit of a short chapter - honestly it's really just the ending to the last one but I ended up preferring ending with Izuku's POV.  
> Oh and thanks for all the bookmarks, kudos and comments!

It had been almost a full week since Midoriya’s initial admission into the hospital, and Aizawa had continued to visit everyday in his break between the end of his job at UA and the start of his hero shift (sure that break was supposed to be a time to rest, but he can sleep when he’s dead). He wasn’t quite sure why he kept coming to check on the boy: was it some form of morbid curiosity caused by his state? Was it for the hope that one day he’ll enter that chilling hospital room and be greeted by the cheerful, lively face from the photo he received all those months ago for the case? Maybe it was just to support the poor woman left behind?

It didn’t really matter what made him come back, he just did, and that was a problem. It was an inconvenience to spend his limited free time watching a child that he shouldn’t be emotionally attached to in the first place. That time he had was vital – he needed that short sleep in order to increase his already dwindling energy supply for his hero work later on, he couldn’t afford to get rid of it! And yet once he had finally wrapped up the last of the paperwork on Midoriya’s case and tried to settle back down into his regular life he couldn’t stop the uncomfortable squirm in his stomach that appeared whenever he tried to put the events of the last couple of days out of his head. It was as if Shouta’s brain was yelling at him to do something, to not move onto the next job, but not telling him why.

All he knew for sure was that he couldn’t afford to get attached to those he saved, especially not Midoriya and his mother. It would only hurt him.

These were the thoughts going through Shouta’s head as he walked up to the bed containing the child that filled a worrying amount of his mind for his Friday visit (yes it was hypocritical he complained about getting attached and yet here he was anyways), two coffees in hand: one for himself and one for the tired form of Inko Midoriya opposite him.

“Good afternoon, Eraserhead (she’d dropped the honorific after some awkward pleading from the man)!” Mrs Midoriya smiled gratefully as she took the cup of dirty bean water the scraggly hero provided; her need for caffeine growing along with the bags under her eyes as the week went on. It had gotten to the point where the hospital staff had intervened and forced the woman into leaving Midoriya’s side for a few hours a day to take a walk, grab some food and get a few hours rest in a free hospital bed.

“Midoriya-san,” Aizawa greeted, keeping his tone as monotone and uncaring as ever (even though the fact he was there in itself showed he care cause his stupid emotions didn’t know when to stop), as he sit in what had become his regular seat on the other side of the bed.

“Anything interesting happen today?”

“Same old, my students testing my sanity, my patience and my moral code,” Shouta retorted, feeling a small twinge of satisfaction as the tired lady’s smile grew that tiny bit from general politeness to mild amusement (so it felt good to make a woman who had lost everything and was probably not in the best place right now smile, sue him).

The two fell into the mainly comfortable silence that had encompassed them since these Shouta had subconsciously decided to make these visits more than a one-time thing (just a few more visits to make sure everything settled as well as it could and then he’ll stop). These meetings were often filled with a lot of silence, with occasional small talk, which despite Aizawa not being a fan of saying unneeded things the breaks from the silence did help stifle the tension created by being in Midoriya’s presence. He did question the mumbling boy between them for a few minutes a day, just to observe if any progress had been made, after all he was staying around to fulfil his job as a hero and make sure both son and mother were doing as well as they could be before leaving (sure, he’ll keep telling himself that). He never brings up the League though, not after last time, despite Midoriya having multiple other fits since without mention of Shigaraki triggering him. The thought of the fallout from the event still made Shouta clench up involuntarily…

(>.<)

Inko had just hit Aizawa in the face (followed by her apologising profusely for her heat of the moment actions) when the cogs that made up Toshinori’s mind started to slowly turn again. What had just happened? He’d witnessed _the Eraserhead_ , a hero known for his harsh but great tact when it comes to dealing with difficult situations, trigger a young boy who’d just been through one of the most traumatic events a person could experience by _outright asking him about the person he’d been imprisoned and tortured by for countless months_! Yagi was pretty sure he’d never felt so disappointed in the underground hero!

Sure, none of them had expected any reaction from the boy, but to say something like that was uncalled for!

Okay, so Toshinori knew this was a bit harsh deep down, as hindsight always makes a situation seem obviously wrong, but for god’s sake he hadn’t wanted to be involved in the first place: Aizawa had quite literally dragged him into the situation (which still hadn’t been explained why!) against his will and forced him to watch until the scene crashed and burned.

Translation: Toshinori was in _fucking rage_ mode, and he was just waiting for Mrs Midoriya to leave before Detroit-smashing the younger pro until only shreds of regret and dull clothes remained.

As the green haired mother ran to the bathroom, most likely in an attempt to hide her emotionally volatile state from the concerned workers and heroes alike, Yagi turned to Aizawa and mustered up as much of a threatening aura he could manage in this form (which looked less threatening and more like a glowering zombie) before marching up to the man and saying “What the fuck do you think you just did?”

The erasure hero had the decency to look mildly ashamed, the sigh that left his lips containing traces of regret rather than the normal tone of just being done with the world. “It wasn’t meant to go this way.”

“ _Oh really?_ ” Toshinori replied. He wasn’t normally one for sass, but the whole case with young Midoriya being found but tortured and now this breakdown (or whatever it was) had really stretched him to his limit.

Aizawa responded with an irritated glare “I admit, I acted with a lack of judgment, but I only dragged you into it in order to force you to confront the boy’s mother about whatever happened between you and her son. It’s clearly bothering you, so I thought- “

“You thought what? Seriously Aizawa! You know nothing about the situation!” What happened with Midoriya was a secret, too many secrets were revealed in their one conversation to tell anyone, let alone a random civilian (not a random civilian it’s Midoriya’s mother the mother of the boy he failed he owed her). But most of all, what would Mrs Midoriya if she found out that the number one hero had crushed her son’s dreams mere hours before his kidnapping!? He was a coward; he couldn’t face that. “So from now on stick to _your_ cases and stop trying to fix things you don’t understand! (hypocrite he believed being a hero was all about helping where others wouldn’t stupid hypocritical liar)”

And with that Toshinori stormed off, deep down feeling embarrassed for behaving more like a rebellious teenager than the great Symbol of Peace, the negative emotion mixing with the others of disappointment, sadness, anger and that blood curdling, skin crawling, gut wrenching stab of guilt guilt guilt…

(>.<)

Shouta felt another oncoming headache as he pulled himself back to the present, refocusing on talking to the husk of madness he sat by. He asked the simplest questions, one any child should be able to answer, like asking about his mum, or about his favourite food (which according to Mrs Midoriya was katsudon, a much better choice than the jelly pouches Aizawa substituted for meals during his classes). Never anything hero or villain related though; it was safer to stay away from those.

As usual he was getting no response from Midoriya, which made a similar clench appear in his abdomen to the one that appeared when he thought of not visiting, but this one had a much more clear cause: every day that the boy didn’t respond increased the chance that he wouldn’t get better, and that this empty shell was really all that remained. Even with all his physical wounds fixed up (leaving behind unfading scars and crooked bones not to mention how skinny he still was), how do they even go around helping and healing something that no longer exists?

After a final failed question (what were his favourite subjects at school?), Shouta finally decided to face the elephant in the room that always barged it’s way in when either he or Mrs Midoriya addressed her son. He took a sip of his cooling coffee before saying, “I’m afraid Midoriya’s condition might be worse than what I initially thought.”

“W-what do you mean?” she said, cocking her head slightly to the side as she placed down her empty cup on the white plastic bedside table (she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about even if she didn’t know the details, Shouta _knew she knew_ ).

So Aizawa continued, sticking to the points he’d analysed and not bothering to sugar-coat it as she just needed to know and accept the possibility: “I thought – I hoped that this current state was Midoriya’s way of protecting himself against the villains, some form of defence mechanism that he subconsciously used to stop his brain taking more than it could, and that it would lower once he was removed from the situation.”

Shouta saw the angry glare start to form on Mrs Midoriya’s face and he quickly continued (man, how that woman went from a cinnamon roll to a serpent ready to kill with looks alone still baffled the man), “Don’t get me wrong, that could still be the case, but it’s been five days with no signs of improvement. He barely even seems to realise the change of his surroundings or that he’s been saved at all, and the longer he’s like this, the higher chance there is that…”

“Just tell me, I need to know anyways.” The woman looked nervous, quivering in a way that made him wonder momentarily how far away this woman was from her breaking point. Thoughts like that were mainly why Shouta had decided to leave out a few details of his evaluation, such as how the same nurse who had come to their aid during Midoriya’s first fit (her name was Kawamura if Aizawa remembered correctly) had alerted him yesterday that since waking up on that first night, Izuku had refused to sleep except when under the influence of anaesthesia, going back to his tense, trembling form as soon as the effects wore off; Mrs Midoriya had enough to deal with as it was without having her son’s sleeping habits (or lack thereof) added to that list.

However he still needed to tell the strained mother the necessary information, which is why he said “There’s a high chance that… _this_ …isn’t a defence method. It could, hypothetically, be caused by whatever he went through, with the villains pushing him to the point that his sanity…snapped. There’s no way to figure out what his thought process (if there is one) due to his lack of response, but if his fractured and repeated use of words tell us anything, it indicates towards your son’s mental state being quite literally broken apart, leaving him either repeating his last coherent thoughts or simply saying the only ones he can have at this stage. If this turns out to be the case, it’s likely that he’ll never recover from this state, let alone return to living like a regular teenager or adult.”

Even this simplified version of what Shouta believed could be (most likely be) what had happened to turn Midoriya into what he was today was harsh and definitely punched those attached to the boy in the gut (Aizawa had definitely felt nothing at his own words, he hadn’t grown to care for the boy or anything stupid like that). He had expected denial from the slouched woman, maybe some more tears of even a return of her fiery temper.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to smile.

“I understand, but that won’t be the case.” Mrs Midoriya mumbled, leaving Shouta searching her smile for any coolness or anger but found nothing but the pleasant warmth she practically radiated. Seeing his confusion she started explaining, “I know my Izuku, he’s too determined to let something like this stop him.” Her smile changed, becoming more bitter at her upcoming sentences, “Did you know he wanted to be a hero? I thought he was…living in a fantasy – a quirkless boy, becoming a hero? I…I gave up on him back when he was first diagnosed and said some things that I still regret to this day.”

She turned towards her son, a determination set in her eyes, “But you know what? He didn’t. Give up, I mean. He kept shooting for his dream despite life throwing every disadvantage his way, despite his own mum telling him- “

She cut herself off abruptly, taking a deep breath in before restarting her train of thought. Shouta decided not to question her. “I-I think he could’ve actually made it as a hero. He had the drive, the intelligence, and more love and concern for those around him than anyone could imagine fitting into his body. I gave up on Izuku once, I won’t make that mistake again. He might no longer be able to be a hero, but don’t underestimate him for a second that he won’t fight with every inch of his being to return to those he loves as himself, whole and loving and absolutely the best son I could ever ask for!”

There was a beat of silence as Shouta digested the new information. He had been aware of the boy’s love for heroes; that had been revealed during his search for the boy all those months ago when he’d seen the police’s pictures of the boy’s notebooks. They were impressive, if not creepily detailed, a lot of the information not even available to the public meaning he must of done a mix of searching for sources related to the heroes and gone out of his way to watch hero fights (how Midoriya had managed to find enough information on him to fill a double page still baffled Shouta). “I…see,” Shouta mumbled, taking a quick peak at the clock on the wall. 5:27, his hour of free time was pretty much up. “Well, I need to head off to work Midoriya-san, so… I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?”

“Please call me Inko, and I-I appreciate it,” Mrs Midor - _Inko_ smiled in reply. Despite looking tired and bedraggled, the genuineness behind the smile made a warm feeling bloom in Shouta’s chest. The pleasant feeling of being wrapped in a blanket of the mother’s kindness was shortly lived (Aizawa definitely wasn’t disappointed) as a question rose in Inko’s mind, “B-but isn’t this case closed now? Shouldn’t you be moving onto the n-next hero mission? Izuku is b-being transferred to the long term mental ward of the hospital tomorrow, he’s not considered at risk anymore, so why-?”

Aizawa ignored the worry that bubbled inside him at the mention of Midoriya going into long term care (these things cost money, and from the way Mrs Mi- Inko’s eyes had darkened at the mention made it clear that this was weighing her down) and cut in to give his _very logical and not at all emotionally driven_ response: “Course I’m moving onto other cases as far as hero jobs go, but I also like to check up on some of the people I save in order to track their progress, especially those I’ve had to leave in compromising situations. Is there a problem with that?”

“Of course not! I just don’t want you wasting even more time on my son and I when you could be saving other people, especially as he’s only back safe because of you! I’m sure Izuku would feel the same.” Shouta found himself and M- _Inko Inko Inko_ standing closer to the manually sliding door than to the bed containing Midoriya, stuck in an awkward stance between turning to leave the room and facing Inko, who was just behind him in just as awkward a position half towards Shouta and half faced back towards the hospital bed as if losing sight of her son would make him disappear again, even if only turning away for a second.

This was getting a bit too awkward for Shouta’s liking, making him as uncomfortable as when he sees Mineta drooling at the girls in his class. He had finished his visit, it’s really time he goes and do his hero job (cause somehow fighting thieves and killers was more comfortable than talking to a mother.

An abrupt hoarse but shrill laugh crept out from between a clenched jaw at the other side of the room, shaking Shouta out of his stupor. Inko was looking at him expectantly; _shit_ , what was he meant to respond to? He didn’t want to accidentally upset Inko more than she already had been (he knew from experience with Hizashi that nothing hurt more than making a cinnamon roll cry), so he had to think very, very carefully about what the hell she said. It had something to do with work hours or assurances or something…

So with no real clue about what the hell he was doing, Aizawa said the most ‘him’ reassurance that popped into his head:

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep up the same hero hours, I’ll just cut down on the amount of homework I set my class.”

Yikes, that was a mess (and he was meant to be a good liar). That was too cheesy that it didn’t sound right in Shouta’s monotone voice. There’s no way Inko would feel better by hearing this.

Except for the fact it seems her eyes lit up at the mention of ‘homework’. “Class? Oh! You teach at UA, right?” Inko said, eyes brightened with hope (holy shit did whatever he said actually work?). However the joy in Inko’s voice didn’t erase the mild suspicion Shouta received from her question – she was going to ask for a favour, he could feel it.

“Hhhmm.” He hummed quietly, staying both quiet and neutral until he received enough information to make a decision on whether he’ll help the green-haired woman or not.

“Could you possibly do me a small favour?”

There it is. “Hhhhhhmmmm.”

Inko finally turned away from Midoriya, focusing her full attention onto him, concern leaking onto her otherwise happy face. “Well, I had some friends who I suddenly lost contact with just after Izuku’s…” All the cheerfulness left Inko’s features as the worry lines engraved in her forehead deepened.

After a moment she continued, “Anyway, they have a son in the same year as Izuku. They’d been friends pretty much since they were born, and I’ve been worried for a while about how he must be taking the loss of Izuku, especially considering his…feisty personality.”

Oh god no. Shouta immediately concluded who this must be, he’d have to be an idiot to not get it with that big a hint (feisty sure was an understatement though). It made sense – the boy’s worrying behaviour since the start of the year, along with his obvious decrease in mental stability could be caused by a loss of an old friend. Not to mention his self-isolation…

Fuck, this made _way_ too much sense.

Shouta knew what Inko was going to say next before she even opened her mouth, “So…I was wondering…could you possibly alert young Bakugo Katsuki of Izuku’s rescue?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story starts to pick up!  
> (God the next chapter is a big one, will probably split it again)


	4. Everything Is Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa: WhAt'S tHaT cOmInG oVeR tHe HiLl...
> 
> *Bakugo screaming in the distance*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make a normal Bakugo, I really did...but I lost to the angst lords.  
> Also guess who had to split another chapter in half (how am losing order over this fic so early on???)
> 
> Anyway I just want to thank all the people who have commented, left kudos and read this fanfic (I'm even posting this on the magic number 69 number of bookmarks aaggghhh thanks for letting me live the meme life!). I really appreciate the support!

It was Saturday, and Shouta had been attempting to catch Bakugo alone since the start of the day to tell him the news about Midoriya, initially planning to tell him early on in the morning and getting it out the way. However, there had been a flaw in that plan which Shouta had not foreseen: Bakugo never actually seemed to be alone, with the nightmare team made of Kaminari, Mina and Sero almost constantly nearby. Then there were Kirishima and Uraraka. At some point since the beginning of the year the two bundles of positivity had unanimously decided to conjoin themselves at the hip with Bakugo. It certainly wasn’t a combination he’d seen coming, especially considering how much Bakugo seemed to isolate himself, then again look how he and Yamada turned out…

Bakugo certainly was a special case though: he was almost as problematic as they came (well at least he thought that until the discovery of Midoriya), with a barely leashed temper that he seemed to spend every waking second attempting to control. So far there hadn’t been any big outbursts, just constant grumbling and growling quietly at those who attempted to get close to him. In fact, the boy had always remained oddly quiet with his warnings and insults, but Aizawa wasn’t sure how much longer that would keep up considering the murderous glare that appeared when almost anyone tried to interact with him.

That led to another one of Bakugo’s main issues, which was his need to isolate himself. Since day one he’d been pushing away all the other members of the class, almost trying to force them to not accept him. That along with how he seemed to always hold back in lessons (not in the way Todoroki did, more in the way where he would only push himself as far as he needed to pass, not aiming to do his best except in crucial moments like at the USJ, conflicting with what his files from his previous school had said about him being “determined” and a “high achiever”. There was also the slip in his grades from top of the class to just about scraping a pass every test) created the impression of a social outcast.

Shouta had been tempted to kick him out on the first day of class for his attitude alone, especially after the boy’s performance in the entrance exam, where he’d performed to a high standard, albeit too violently, for the first few minutes of the exam up until halfway through where with a total of 57 points Bakugo’s attacks became lacklustre and he didn’t earn another point for the whole exam, putting him in joint ninth place with Tokoyami. It had been clear even then that Bakugo wasn’t putting in as much effort as he should, the half-assed attitude making him worthy of expulsion, but something about the dark purple eyes under his eyes that seemed to grow by the day, and the worryingly small amount the boy ate despite his size and intense hero training, the way he seemed to almost sleepwalk through the day with glazed eyes, only snapping into full lucidness for violent attacks or hero training lessons or to occasionally shout and grumble at other students… Shouta had the feeling something more was going on with Bakugo for a while now.

Maybe this alarming change in his already concerning personality since middle school was caused by the loss of his childhood friend?

He was this year’s problem child alright, no one could deny that.

Either way, Kirishima and Uraraka seemed to have slipped through his defences and become tolerated, maybe even liked by Bakugo. He certainly didn’t snap at them as much as he did at the others, and even answered them sometimes, which was odd considering how joyful and passionate they were in nature in comparison to his dark, quiet, brooding one.

No matter the case, they were making it very hard for Shouta to separate Bakugo from them without it seeming suspicious – all information on Midoriya was strictly confidential and could not be overheard by anyone, as well as being a topic Aizawa was sure Bakugo would want to keep private.

Finally, as the rest of the class left to go to lunch, Shouta spotted Bakugo dawdling behind everyone else, eyes glazed with his brain clearly off somewhere else. It seemed like the others had gone on ahead without realising his loitering. Shouta quickly took in a deep breath and said,

“Bakugo.”

The hot-tempered student blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his trance, before he swung around to face him, “What?!” He seemed to catch his mistake straight after he growled out the word in a threatening tone, spitting out a reluctant but softer, “Aizawa sensei…” afterwards as a form of ‘damage control’.

“Stay behind with me for a minute”

Bakugo hesitated for a second, clearly eager to argue back about ‘why should he?’, but he decided against it and plonked himself back on top of his desk at the front of the classroom, hands curling under the edge of the desk on either side, glaring at Shouta as if daring him to continue.

“I’ve been told to inform you about a recent event.” Aizawa said, before his words hit a mental barricade. Shit, he’d been so focused on getting the chance to talk to Bakugo he hadn’t properly thought about how he was gonna say this. He’d need more tact than he normally had…why couldn’t All Might do this bit with his charisma, or Yamada when he went quiet and understanding? This was not a role made for Shouta, he’d have to think about how he worded this _very_ carefully.

The room was swamped in silence as Shouta thought, “So what is it?” Bakugo said, clearly growing irritated. More silence followed. “Well?!” the fiery hero in training growled, small sparks coming out of his palms, making the wooden desk below him smoke.

Aizawa made a mental note to tell Bakugo off for that later, but not now. Shouta groaned, he didn’t have the time now to think this through now, he might as well get straight to the point. “Izuku Midoriya has been found.”

Silence. The tension in the room was so thick it was stifling.

“What…” was all that came out of the explosive blonde. His eyes were widened, not in the weird vacant stare Shouta so often saw him wearing, but full of shock, as if his mind could not comprehend the words it heard. The silence stretched as both of them remained stock still, Shouta sitting at his dek with Bakugo standing opposite of him, fingers now clinging to the desk as if his life depended on it.

There seemed to be no further reaction from the teen as the silence became so unbearable it felt as if it was crawling around under his skin, so Shouta decided to break the suffocating quiet and say, “Do you want me to- “

Suddenly, without warning, Bakugo leaped from his position leaned on the desk, explosions from his palms blasting the table back as he stormed his way to the teacher’s desk a couple of feet away and slammed his hands down onto the wooden surface. “WHAT!!??!” the appalled boy yelled right into Aizawa’s face, eyes still wide and breath heaving slightly with emotion. Yep, this boy’s problems (at least some of them) were _definitely_ caused by the loss of Midoriya.

Shouta couldn’t help but wince slightly at the almost-Hizashi-volume of the problem child’s enraged yet despairing scream. “Bakugo calm down, this is a private matter and we don’t want-“

To his annoyance, he was cut off again by a shout, slightly raspy from underuse. “Where the fuck was he!? It’s been 11 fucking months, that fucking Dek-Izuku! He had a fucking funeral!” Bakugo’s hands stopped smoking on the teacher desk as the anger was drained out of his facial expression, shoulders slumping as more horror and sadness filled his face, “Everyone- I thought he was dead!?”

“Please take your hands off my desk and I’ll continue.” Shouta watched as an inner argument took place within the boy on whether it was worth fighting back, before seemingly deciding it wasn’t and let go of the desk, instead vouching to cross his arms tightly across his chest. Only then did he start to speak again, “He seemed to of been taken by the League of Villains, or at least ended up-“

“Sh-shit!” A cracking voice interrupted Aizawa _again_ (that was going to have to stop), breaking from lack of use as a shit-tonne of fury made its way into Bakugo’s tone. “I’m gonna kill that hand-job fucker the next time I lay my fucking eyes on him! FUCK!”

With that the explosive blonde grabbed his bag from the desk behind him and started marching his way to the door, knocking over a chair that was in his way.

“Where are you going?” Shouta quickly stood up and started speed walking towards the fuming boy, capture weapon at the ready to stop the anger-fuelled boy from leaving if he turned out to be doing something stupid (it most likely was this 100% problem child seemed to live off violence and rage when he was conscious enough).

Bakugo spun around to face his teacher at the sound of movement, glaring (and if looks could kill) with defiance and very present emotions as he announced, “I’m gonna fucking see him, that’s what! You gonna try stopping me or some shit?”

Shouta certainly did not appreciate his student sneering at him like that, but first he needed to shut down... whatever this thought process was, “In any other case I would agree, but when it comes to Izuku- “

Interrupted. Again.

His student had gone back to his obvious default – madly screaming with rage at everyone around him. How the hell had this boy not yet combusted in class with an attitude like this? “What the fuck?! Are you _fucking_ _serious_ right now! You’re telling me that- “

This time Aizawa cut in, his temper rapidly fraying, “Bakugo, the case is confidential- “

“Do I look like I give a shit about- “

“For fuck’s- “Shouta took a deep breath in, slowly letting it out in a futile attempt to calm down. Why did one boy have the right to be so _damn infuriating_!? He started talking again, not shouting this time, but still definitely not in his usual calm manner, “Bakugo, use what little brainpower you have for rationality to think through what I’m saying.” The anger bursting from the kid sunk until it was merely simmering, which was the best Shouta could really hope for. “Think, why would a case involving the League of Villains, one of the most publicised villain groups right now, not be placed on the news or talked about by the media?”

Bakugo’s expression morphed into horror again, along with badly concealed fear and worry. Finally, the problem child understood.

The next sentence came out as a childish whisper, a sound Shouta had never expected to hear from him, “What…. happened to Deku?”

Deku? A nickname perhaps? Just another thing to add to the ‘ask about later’ pile.

“It was bad.” He could see the panic on Bakugo’s face as he presumed the worst, so he quickly continued, “Not so much physically, a week of intensive care and a visit from Recovery Girl on Tuesday have left him stable, minus obvious traits of malnourishment.” Now here was the hard part, “But mentally…”

At his silence, Bakugo’s eyes fell to the floor, frowning, as he gritted out between clenched teeth, “How. Bad.”

A small sigh escaped Shouta: this bit didn’t get easier, no matter how many times he said it, whether it was to Inko, for the police files, or to Recovery Girl before she went in to heal Midoriya’s quirk-decayed abdominal section, “He’s been pushed past his limits for a long time. The person who remains isn’t very…” He quickly tried to find any words that would sum up what the hell had happened to the boy, before finally settling on “Midoriya.”

Confusion and fear sparked up from his student, not even attempting to hide the feelings now, still not looking up from the section of floor he seemed to have focused on, “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I-is he villainous? Brainwashed? Violent? Angry? U-uncaring?” Panic was overshadowing the blonde’s sense of rationality as his breathing quickened and his fists (now clenched at his sides) started shaking.

And Shouta didn’t know how to calm him down, as the case of Midoriya was terrifying. It was the first thing in a long time that had left the pro feeling a constant sense of unease, the boy’s plastered smile and dead eyes imprinted on his eyelids. And he’d dealt with a lot of shit.

So Aizawa just continued his explanation the best he could, “He’s….not there.” He thought back to Midoriya’s mad laughter, his nonsensical rambling, his sporadic fits of screaming and thrashing, his eyes that held nothing yet everything, the smile that carved its way into the dreams of those who saw it, remaining even when the boy was forced into sleep. “Sorry Bakugo, but I think he’s completely gone, completely beyond insane into…something else. It’s not quite like anything I’ve ever seen before.” The uncomfortable knot he got when he thought of not visiting the Midoriya’s returned, churning up his insides as he sat down onto the desk nearest him, “It’s not natural, Bakugo, it’s not something that should exist, especially in someone like him.”

Suddenly the problem child’s eyes snapped up, glaring at Shouta with an intensity darker than his bold anger, “You mean Izuku. Not _it_.” The tone of voice was different too, it wasn’t loud, more like a growled threat.

“Bakugo, I’m not calling Izuku an it I’m talking about his mental-”

And the interrupting was back (if it wasn’t for the topic he’d be sent to detention this very second, and a more sadistic part of Aizawa wanted to do that anyway), “And you call yourself a pro? Here you are, practically shaking at the thought of a fucking quirkless teen!” Shouta decided to just remain quiet about Bakugo actually being the one shaking, that would just be petty. So Aizawa continued to listen as a spark of determination (that’s new, makes him look more like the middle school definition) appeared in the boy as he regained the volume he’d lost in his last few sentences, though the darker glint remained in his eyes, “I don’t care what he’s like, fuck I don’t care if he’s a whole different person, I want to see him. I need – want to see he’s alive with my own eyes!”

Shouta felt mildly startled as tears started trailing down the teenager’s face, “Bakugo it’s not my place to allow- “

“Then let me go to the hospital and talk to whatever piece of shit I need to myself!” The intensity remained despite the tears. In fact, it only seemed to grow as more emotion flooded into his voice, “At least give me that, if they say no, I’ll accept it. But I’m not taking a no from the man who “saved” him 11 MONTHS TOO LATE!!!”

That was too far. Shouta’s temper finally snapped.

“Don’t you fucking interrupt me _one more time_!!“ His quirk had activated, and Shouta found himself glaring at his riled up student with a mirrored expression. He had half a mind to just let out his frustration towards the mess of a teenager, oh god he really wanted to just expel the kid on the spot. But no, not the time. They were both tense and stressed, surely Aizawa would regret any decision he made in this mindset.

He turned away from the Bakugo, pacing the room as he tried to sort out the mess that was his thoughts. He had to keep in mind, this boy had been grieving until this point. _Still grieving_ , Shouta realised, thinking through how their conversation had gone. The boy had just been told the person that had been plaguing him with negative thoughts for months no longer exists, of course he doesn’t know how to handle it! Not to mention the obvious suppression of said feelings for months on end. The last thing Bakugo needed was to be shouted at, or punished (right this second, anyways). He needed closure.

He turned back to the problem child, calmer than he’d been for most the conversation, his mind made up on his next course of actions. “Okay, you can go to the hospital later, if only to ask. Just don’t cause a riot when you get there.” The teen turned away, continuing his march to the doorway, and Aizawa realised his intentions. “Bakugo-“

The boy stopped walking, but didn’t turn back around, “I’m going now, I don’t care what you say, fuck, expel me for all I care! The only choice you have is if you’re coming with me or not.”

Shouta thought for a second. It was only lunchtime, but the pro had a free next, and it would be better for someone to accompany Bakugo voluntarily to Kamino rather than stopping him now just to have him run off alone later, more so in his current state than his usual sleep-walk-esc, barely aware one. Though he did have to be punished for this, along with his attitude towards a member of staff, and the burning of school desks…“You’re getting suspended for this, y’know?”

Bakugo took this as confirmation, and continued to leave the room with the question of “Where’s your car parked?”

( TT _ TT )

Bakugo Katsuki was absolutely fine. Simple as.

He was absolutely fine when Dek- Izuku (he’s not worthless he never was you fucking idiot) was announced missing. He was fine when the bunch of spineless cowards known as his classmates turned against him. He was fine when he got in and trained at UA, he was fine when some new unknowing idiots started following him around, he was fine when the days seemed to blend together and become hazy, he was fine when he learnt about Izuku’s return.

He was absolutely, completely, 100% fine when he ran into Kamino hospital with his shitty teacher trailing behind him, grumbling about how “Hizashi will need the car” or some crap. He was Bakugo fucking Katsuki, not some weakling who let his emotions control him!

Not like ~~Deku~~ Izuku. That nerd may not be worthless, but he was weak. An emotional, quirkless weakling.

That _did not_ worry Katsuki.

He entered the cooled waiting room, crimson eyes assaulted by the white, synthetic lighting of the hospital as he continued running to the front desk. Slamming both hands onto the desk (no explosions though, Aizawa-sensei had warned him to behave, and his threats were not to be taken lightly), he demanded, “I want to see Midoriya Izuku!”

The receptionist looked at him in alarm and obvious surprise as she immediately replied with, “I’m sorry, family and other emergency contacts only,” like she was some fucking automated system.

Katsuki growled under his breath, trying his damn hardest to not just explode on the spot. This was his shot to see Izuku, he wasn’t gonna lose it cause of his “hot-temper” as people called it. By now Aizawa had reached the desk and began speaking to the startled robo-lady:

“I’m Aizawa Shouta, also known as pro-hero Eraserhead. The documents state I can visit, right?”

The woman looked momentarily confused before becoming more neutral, giving Shouta the facts without even looking at the screen in front of her (great, so she was a smart-ass too), “Yes you have permission given to you from you involvement in the Midoriya case (and the woman found a way to further piss him off with her _fucking wording_ ) as well as from the boy’s mother herself. However that permission is for you and you alone, no other guests are allowed and you are not in a position to give that permission.”

The scruffy teacher began his return argument, but hell if Katsuki was gonna stand there like a pile of trash and do nothing! He slammed his hands on the desk again (even without explosions it made a decent intimidation technique), and declared, “My family were on that emergency list thing until he disappeared! Permission my ass – if this fucker who never even met him when he was himself gets to see Izuku then surely I should! I’ve known him _since I was born_ , how much more ‘family’ can you get!?”

“Bakugo!” Aizawa-sensei snapped at him, giving a stern glare which told him to drop it. Tch, the coward. Katsuki stormed from his position beside his newly-decided-incompetent teacher and sat in one of the plastic waiting chairs, putting his feet up on the chair beside him just to stop anyone from attempting to sit next to him. It didn’t seem as if anyone thought to try anyways; all the patients in the room uncomfortably attempting to avoid looking at the explosive blonde before them after his outburst at the front desk.

Good, other people were a waste of time and effort anyway.

Katsuki was vaguely aware that Aizawa-sensei was apologising for his behaviour (hah he wasn’t sorry he wanted to blow up her smug face, but whatever works to get him in) and continue the argument with her, but the words were starting to merge in his mind. Screw that, it wasn’t just the words: as he blearily looked around the room everything was starting to blur and fade and become hazy, from the posters on the walls to the faces of the others in the waiting room.

Thinking about it, it had been a while since Bakugo had felt this awake for so long – no wonder today felt like it was dragging on so much! Normally he just bothered to focus on the necessities (he trusted his brain to remember that much, cause if he couldn’t trust himself then who could he?), but the news of Izuku had fucked up his _perfectly healthy_ system, and he could recall everything from the last hour and a half since Aizawa called to him after class.

Well it wasn’t like he needed to focus now; the argument dragging on at a stalemate between the two adults, each spouting a line of bullshit in turn to no avail. So hey, Bakugo would relax now, letting go of the bleary images and noises pressing against him and there was not a fucking thing anyone could do about it!

…

“K-katsuki?”

Shit. He knew that voice, he couldn’t ignore that voice any less than he could Izuku’s.

He blinked rapidly, squinting slightly as the world refocused around him, just to find the last person he wanted to see perched beside his two claimed chairs, a hand on his knee with green eyes full of concern.

“Aunt Inko?” he croaked, still attempting to fully regain his senses.

The piercing eyes widened at his response, as his aunt (no he didn’t want to see her she didn’t know about the bullying she didn’t know what he’d said) tightened her grip on his leg, “Oh god, Katsuki! Are you okay? I’ve been saying your name for the last two minutes.”

He blinked again. The fuck? She’d been saying it that long? Well Katsuki wasn’t stupid, it was clear his brain was tired after all the mental stress of the day, so it was working a bit slower than it should. Yeah. That was it. “M’fine,” he mumbled, pushing his legs from the seat next to him onto the floor as an attempt to get Aunt Inko to let go, to the opposite effect: as he moved the mother of the _boy he’d beaten up daily_ drew him into the first hug he’d had for a long time (she needed to let go she shouldn’t treat him this well she should keep her distance and she would just like everyone else if she just knew the truth).

Luckily for Katsuki she pulled away after a few seconds to study his face, as if she could see straight into his soul and mind with her bright, piercing eyes. After a couple more seconds of silence she said, “Are you sure sweetie? You don’t look the best,” her eyes still full of worry for the boy who _deserved none of it_.

Was she undermining him? He was a student at _the_ UA, he was the fucking definition of strong! He didn’t need anyone! He was doing absolutely fine! He was tired cause of the hard training schedule at UA, his uniform was loser than it was when he got it fitted because he was exercising, losing any leftover fat, and he had those ugly bags as what was the point of sleeping when he’d wake up a few hours later from nightmares. It was all perfectly logical and healthy and he was fine!

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted before he could think better of it, cause screw it, it was true! Aunt Inko had seen better days; she looked just as tired and worn out as he guessed he did, fuck, probably even more so!

His aunt didn’t reply, just gave him a small sad smile, followed by glancing behind him at the source of a grumbling voice saying “Bakugo, can I not leave you alone for 10 minutes without you insulting someone.”

A warm smile appeared on Aunt Inko’s face as she exclaimed “Eraserhead! What are you doing here during the school day!?”

Aizawa didn’t exactly smile, but he did change slightly from his usual bored / irritated tone to one that almost sounded happy, “Hi Inko (when the hell were _these two_ one a first name basis?), I, uh, did as you asked before, but…” Katsuki attempted to not punch his teacher in the face as he gave the teen a look over which just fucking insulting before turning back to his aunt, “turns out this one was a bit more stubborn than he’d let on. He pretty much left me no choice but to come.”

To the explosive boy’s horror Aunt Inko let out a soft laugh at _his_ expense (top 10 anime betrayal) as she ruffled his spiky hair, “You always were hard-headed Katsuki, it’s so good to see you again!”

Aizawa-sensei cleared his throat to show the change of tone in the conversation (the bastard couldn’t allow anyone to be happy could he?), “On that note Inko, we’re here to get permission for Bakugo to visit, however it seems only you and any family members you decide on can let others see Midoriya. So I hate to bother you but how would you feel about-”

“Yes! Of course! Tell me what to do!”

Shit, she should not agree that easily! This was a fucking confidential case and the stupid idiot was just gonna allow Katsuki in without a single question. Bakugo felt something tug at his guts, pulling them down towards the centre of gravity and making his limbs feel heavy and stiff as if they were made of lead. Aunt Inko was allowing a bully to see the traumatised victim without even knowing it! Izuku certainly wouldn’t want to see him again, not after all those of years of tormenting and beating and _those fucking words_ , and if he didn’t remember any of that then he couldn’t be Izuku any more as that’s what moulded him into the person he was and if Izuku was no longer Izuku then had Katsuki just come all this way to see a breathing corpse?

Why in Satan’s name had he asked to do this again?

“Are you sure about this?” Aizawa-sensei echoed Katsuki’s own doubts about the situation (albeit not as extreme).

He couldn’t look away from his aunt, his body too heavy to move, “Eraserhead, they’ve known each other since before they could even talk! I know the Bakugo family well, and I would trust any one of them with my life.” The tugging on his insides increased at her words and he felt as if he was being dragged straight through the floor as the wrenching turned into a dropping sensation (he ~~needed~~ wanted to go now he ~~couldn’t~~ didn’t want to see her anymore shit he was meant to be over this bull crap by now!). He slumped back in the uncomfortable chair as the weight inside him started crushing his insides against the plastic surface below.

All this changed as Aizawa mumbled, “I was thinking more about Bakugo’s wellbeing…”

Katsuki swivelled in his seat to face his teacher so quickly he swore he had whiplash, mobility suddenly returning to his whole body in a single moment as a mix of anger and frustration crawled up his throat. Crap, why the hell was someone else worrying about him!? He. Was. Fucking. Fine. Why did no one seem to believe him? He’d seen the worried glances between shitty hair and round cheeks, he’d heard his parents talk about him late at night, and now it was his shitty teacher talking about him like he was some stupid kid who needed to be pitied and protected!

“It would do him no better to never see him again!”

At that reply all Katsuki was think was “Fuck yeah Inko!” despite the guilt (yes it was guilt he couldn’t deny that) that plagued him just from seeing his aunt again. It wouldn’t be nice, actually it would suck balls, but he wanted to see Izuku, have it confirmed with his own eyes that yes, he was alive and safe and _here._

Wait a sec, something was wrong with this conversation. It took Bakugo a moment to look between the two adults before he realised the unforgivable truth: _they were both fucking ignoring him THOSE BASTARDS!!!_ How _dare_ they talk about him as if he wasn’t there when he was legit beside them! Hell no was he gonna put up with that!

“Oi, I’m still here you hags!” Katsuki grumble-shouted, glaring at both of them as if they’d committed the worst crime possible (which they had! No one gets to fucking ignore him like that). Both their heads immediately snapped towards him as they remembered that yes, Bakugo was not a piece of trash that could just be forgotten.

Aunt Inko spoke first, “I know Katsuki dear, I’m sorry if we were rude (fuck yeah you were!),” a small smile appearing on her lips as she turned back to Aizawa-sensei to nail in her point, “Anyway, I’m giving him my permission to see _my son_ , which is now entirely my choice, so show me where to sign.”

That sounded promising. He quickly stood up from the seat (ignoring the black dots that appeared in front of his eyes), and stretched as the homeroom teacher said, “I’ve already warned Bakugo of Midoriya’s mental state, but I don’t think he listened properly, so can you try and- ”

Nope, he was not being blanked again. “I STILL EXIST YOU- “ Aizawa glared at him, quirk activated, stopping him in his tracks. On a completely unrelated note Katsuki decided to stop yelling and instead muttered “Aizawa sensei…”

His teacher merely groaned, pinching his nose as he deactivated his weird red-eye glare before nodding his head towards a hospital corridor. “Let’s just go Bakugo, Inko will catch us up in a second after signing the paperwork for your access, oh and sign there.” Katsuki quickly grabbed the pen in the man’s hand and scribbled a large, obnoxious signature in the needed box, then turned away in preparation for storming to the dreaded room and meeting those young green eyes for the first time in almost a year.

However, he was stopped before he could escape down the fall by a soft hand gripping his wrist. Slowly he turned back around to meet the gaze of the tired woman. Her eyes were still full of that stupid pity that made Katsuki both boil with rage and want to sink into the tiled floor beneath him.

“It’s good to see you again.” She said, her words of gratitude making the explosive blonde feel like more of a douche than he already did, “I know you and Izuku were close (oof another stab of guilt right there), so just know that if you need help at any point, I’m always here to talk.”

Bakugo thought to himself, the silence stretching as he held a miniature inner argument. He couldn’t talk to her, of course not! As if she would continue listening to him after finding out what he did! But he should tell someone about it, people should know the truth about him and learn to keep their distance before they grow attached ~~even if it means not becoming a hero~~. Screw that, no one needed to know, and he didn’t need anyone! He was strong. He was fine. People didn’t need to know about his past mistakes! ~~But they should know a real hero would face the consequences of their actions~~ Yeah, no one needed to know, and Katsuki didn’t need their help or worthless concern, so what was the point of causing unneeded tension and pain?

After reaching his (obviously correct) conclusion, he broke both eye and physical contact with his aunt ~~who deserves the truth~~ , crimson eyes slipping away from green as he stomped towards Eraserhead, who’d made his way halfway down the corridor, muttering a small “Sure, ” to the woman he left behind him.

A minute passed as the student and teacher made their way through the maze of hallways. Katsuki’s mind was racing, the thought of _actually seeing De- Izuku again_ on loop in his head as they passed more and more rooms filled with patients.

He actively felt his stomach hurl when he saw the sign saying ‘Long term mental care’ – that made it all feel a bit too real. What was Izuku like if he had to stay in hospital after his wounds were healed? Long term as well…what the hell had the League of Fuckheads done to him in those 11 months? He thought back to the USJ: Aizawa-sensei had been mercilessly knocked unconscious, most his bones broken as blood leaked onto the ground around him, the classmate who left after having his leg reduced to dust, cracks bleeding from his cheek as hand-job grabbed his face.

Fuck.

They turned another corridor, Katsuki’s heart thumping in time to his loud footsteps, then doubling in pace when he realised Aizawa had stopped walking outside a sliding door. That could only mean one thing…

It was time.

Aizawa said something to Bakugo about him “waiting outside, giving Bakugo time alone” or some shit, the hot-tempered boy wasn’t listening. He was actually doing it, he was gonna see Izuku again, and Izuku was gonna get better and they could put all this bullshit behind them.

“-so tell me if you need anything.” He caught the end of the speech, briefly registering what he’d heard before grasping the door handle.

And he slid it open.

( TT _ TT )

(2 weeks after Izuku's kidnapping)

“You did what?”

Katsuki flinched at the look of horror on his mum’s face. He was used to her being angry with him, that was fine, but the sheer shock and unmasked disappointment was new, and it hurt to look at. It hurt even more as Katsuki knew it was the least of what he deserved for what he’d done.

“Fuck…That can’t be true, Katsuki!” his mum continued, searching her son’s face for any trace of humour, “I raised you better than this! You wouldn’t do that!” Her eyes filled with tears as the boy attempted to keep up his calm yet remorseful mask, trying to hide the mass of ugly emotions beneath the surface.

“I’m…it’s true. Every word.” His voice sounded wrong, sniffled and quiet from crying, a mere echo of its usual yell.

There’d been a lot of crying in the Bakugo household that day.

His mum refused to accept it (god stop making this harder than it has to be!), the flow of tears not stopping as she reached out to him. As if pleading to him could undo all the shit he’d done. “B-but you and young Izuku are friends! You have been since before you could talk!”

“No we haven’t. I just let you think that.”

His mother stepped back, falling onto the sofa behind her as she sobbed silently. This was the quietest Katsuki had ever seen her and it was…eerie.

To his surprise it was his dad who talked next, even more shocked when he heard his angry tone and raised volume: “Shit…Katsuki, just why!?” Normally his mum was the one who shouted at him while his dad was the peacekeeper, but now he was shouting and his mum was crying and he’d messed up-

“I don’t know?!” he shouted in return, attempting to stifle the mess that was his thought process, “I want to take it back but-“

“Oh, that’s not going to cut it young man!” his dad continued shouting, not like how he and his mum did, but with hurt fuelling his stern, more controlled anger.

Katsuki knew it was pointless and that he was in the wrong, but he argued back for the sake of arguing as anything was better than the disappointed silence that left his thoughts alone to _beat the fuck out of his brain_ , “But it wasn’t just me, I- “

It was his mum who cut in this time, fixing her son with a cold stare as in a flat voice she said “Don’t make this worse.”

Silence again. His dad started pacing around the room in thought. Katsuki’s head felt sore yet fuzzy, disorientating him as if he was stuck in a nightmare.

His dad took in a deep breath, hands together in front of his face as he mumbled, “Okay. We can sort this out.” He stopped pacing momentarily, turning to face him as he announced, “You’re going to therapy.”

“WHAT!?” He didn’t fucking need therapy, he needed to be punished! Wait – was the therapy the punishment? Leave it to his spineless dad to come up with the most irritating solution.

“Shut up brat!” snapped his mum, earning a glare off her husband for her feisty insult.

“Let’s do some family therapy sessions as well. This isn’t all on Katsuki,” the brown haired Bakugo said, continuing his pacing as his gaze shifted from his wife onto the wall ahead of him, “It’s clear messed up raising you somewhere, and it’s pretty obvious it has something to do with the…. imbalance of our family dynamic.” Both Katsuki and his mum shifted uncomfortably at that. It was all too clear what he was referring to, with their daily shouting matches with dad unable to stop them.

“So, have you got anything to say for yourself?” Neither spoke. The silence was fuzzing in Katsuki’s brain like static. His dad nodded his head, “Good. Now go upstairs while your mum and I decide what the hell you’re going to get for this.”

He didn’t hesitate; Katsuki got up from his position on the other sofa and ran up the stairs, down the corridor, and slammed his door shut.

He slumped onto his bed, groaning as his brain continued pounding against his skull. He couldn’t be bothered to move, he just lay there face down on the bed, listening to the muffled voices of his parents from the lounge.

“I can’t believe this!? Our own son, doing that? I though we knew him better than that!”

“Oh god Mitsuki – what will Inko think of us!?” The mention of his aunt’s name made the static louden.

“Poor Izuku, why the hell has nothing been done about this?!” It was roaring in his ears.

“I don’t care what his teachers say, it is inexcusable for anyone to tell someone else to- “

He couldn’t here the rest, but he couldn’t hear the static either. It took him a moment to realise he’d covered his ears with his burnt pillow (when had he done that?), followed by him throwing it across the room. It slammed into the wall with a soft thud.

Silence.

It was too fucking quiet, it was gonna drive him insane! What happened to the talking downstairs? It shouldn’t have broken up that quickly.

Actually, thinking about it, something was off. The sun was shining through his window at an angle wrong for the time of day. He quickly glanced at the time and was ~~concerned~~ mildly surprised to see 2 hours had passed. ~~That shouldn’t happen~~ Whatever, he didn’t want to do anything anyway. He hadn’t felt like doing much of anything for the last 2 weeks since he’d said

_“If you really want to be a hero so bad, there is a way. Just pray you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.”_

Katsuki’s world went blurry. He blinked and it was dark outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bakugo...I'm so sorry.
> 
> On an unrelated note I just thought I'd add a link to this Todoroki / V from BTS crossover image I drew cause I'm actually quite proud of it!  
> https://emmarzhere.tumblr.com/post/611310562818867200/so-i-decided-to-crossover-v-from-bts-and-todoroki
> 
> Sorry for the crap notes!


	5. Baku-Angst (there's no better name for this one tbh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get some Baku-angst, and you get some Baku-angst, EVERYONE GETS SOME BAKU-ANGST!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4800 hits? 100 bookmarks? 394 (guess they can't all be perfectly rounded off numbers!) kudos? Wow I'm blessed!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, I had an idea for another fic that I couldn't escape from so I had to make some of it before being able to return my focus back to this one (though I might start just doing alternating chapters between the two fics).

So… Katsuki slid the door open.

Fuck.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but _fuck_.

That was ~~Deku~~ Izuku alright, but it also… wasn’t. He knew that nerd: he’d seen him every day for years, he knew what he was meant to look like! He’d always been rather small and skinny for his age, but his bones should not be sticking out at jagged angles through his thin hospital gown. He’d always had burns and scratches littering his body from Katsuki’s….past actions, but now his arms were now covered in dents and scars at different points of healing, so little unaffected flesh remaining it appeared more like a full arm tattoo than a selection of injuries (some angry lines were visible on his neck, shaped like multiple lightning strikes zig-zagging towards his ears and chin god what was his torso like Bakugo didn’t want to know he really didn’t). The big bags filling his sockets and the stiff (too stiff) posture just added to the feeling of _not Izuku_ radiating off the boy.

Then there were the eyes.

And the smile.

Katsuki wanted to ~~run away and~~ be sick. The nerd had annoyed him at every possible moment with his nervous glances and awkward smile and at the time all Katsuki had wanted was for them to vanish from his life. But now they were gone, and what was left behind was so much worse.

The room felt too bright, the artificial light burning his eyes as everything suddenly seemed way too close to the point it was suffocating. The metal equipment was gleaming, their edges too defined, and Izuku was so focused he could see every line on his arm and every speckle of yellow in his sickly eyes and every trace of blood on his molars ~~and it was too much he couldn’t stand this he needed to leave he shouldn’t be here he couldn’t do this he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t~~

The blonde shut his eyes tight for a few seconds. The darkness was soothing, a nice break from the hospital lights (and admittedly Izuku). Slowly, Katsuki opened his eyes to find the room more…manageable. The lights still hurt, everything was slightly disorientated, but it was fine. He could deal with this.

He was vaguely aware of a nurse standing in the doorway, staring at him with slight concern (well fuck her he didn’t need anyone’s stupid pity). He chose to ignore them and focus on why he was here: ~~De~~ Izuku still hadn’t move from his position on the bed, arms limp by his side, staring straight ahead. Come to think of it, the nerd still hadn’t actually looked at Katsuki, he just kept staring at the blank wall opposite him, unresponsive.

He slowly sat down on the chair beside his former friend and continued staring at him silently. The only sound in the room was the quiet muttering coming from the underweight boy, accompanied with small giggles that made Bakugo feel uneasy.

He cleared his throat before attempting to talk, feeling slightly weird by talking to someone who clearly wasn’t paying attention to him. “De-Izuku? I-it’s me. I’m……fuck-um-.”

His awkward failure at speech was cut off as his quirkless classmate’s voice rose in volume as if in acknowledgement of being spoken to, his words becoming audible for the other teen to hear, “Smile, must smile, heroes. Shigs bad no no smiling must….” The raspy, hysterical tone of Izuku’s voice made him feel like Thirteen was using his quirk to suck up all of Katsuki’s insides. 11 months since he last heard the nerd’s annoying voice, just to now hear some broken rambling from the boy who _clearly wasn’t there_! Hobo-teacher’s comment on him ‘not being very Izuku’ felt just a tad too correct, as what was left in front of him was clearly not very much of anything.

He waited as the louder rambling continued, the same few sentences and phrases being repeated again and again until it dissolved into mad chuckling before trying to continue his attempt at talking, “Shit…Just snap out of it, okay? Not for me, I couldn’t give a shit either way, but you’re freaking Aunt Inko the fuck out, and I know you don’t want that you shitty-“ and there he goes, insulting the boy even after he’s lost his fucking mind. Why was he such a dick all the time!? He tried to calm down as the nurse in the doorway kept giving worried looks between the two boys, probably questioning if it was safe to leave the explosive blonde in such small proximity to the patient. At least it was no longer worry for his sake. So he continued with a quiet, “fuck…..just get better.”

The only response he got was wild laughter from between teeth and a sing-songy exclamation of “Smile for Shigs, smile smile smile!”

And that did it for Katsuki. The feeling of _too much_ was back. The corrupt smile bore into his skull as it refused to move in the slightest bit while still somehow speaking clearly and laughing. This was a mistake, he shouldn’t have come. What did he expect from this? Hell, ~~he was barely coping with everyday life~~ what was he trying to accomplish by visiting the boy he spent years chipping away at without a single apology? He just wanted to leave and never look back; he’d faced Izuku again and was ready for his brain to take the lead again ~~and wake him up again when he was next actually needed just let him drift away.~~

But he couldn’t enter that _totally normal_ hazy state when he was stuck in a room with the source of all his problems.

“Forget it.” He muttered as he quickly stood up to leave the room, not looking at the remains of ~~De~~ Izuku as he practically bolted to the open door. However before he reached the exit all thoughts of leaving were wiped away by a single syllable:

“K-Ka….?”

The teen whirled back around to see his former friend in the same position as before, and for a second he wondered if he’d just imagined the sound, but then Izuku blinked. It was the first time he’d blinked since he’d entered the room.

And Katsuki just knew…

A wave of desperate hope overwhelmed the hot-headed boy as he rushed back to the other’s side, grabbing his hand just a bit too roughly as he began rambling, “Izuku, you remember me, right? Come on Deku what were you about to say?!” No response, just a restart of the quiet, meaningless giggling, “Don’t you dare shut down on me, for f-fucks sake! J-just st-stop……” He felt angry at himself as tears formed in his eyes again. No, he was not weak, he was not going to cry twice in one day: the last time he’d cried before this was the day of Izuku’s funeral, and that was in his own room, alone. He was not gonna whimper like some kid and get all that stupid pity _that he doesn’t deserve!_

For all his efforts to not cry he got nothing in return but a high-pitched laugh and a, “Smile. Shigs not happy.”

Frustration replaced all other feelings as he grabbed both his bony shoulders tightly. There must be some logic to this somewhere, some sign that the old Izuku still existed somewhere in there (he knew what he heard he knew that nerd was gonna say ‘Kacchan’ he knew it), he just needed to get it out of him, “Shigs? The fuck is Shigs?” he questioned loudly, shaking the boy slightly as if he could literally jog his mind back into working order. Was that some brat from the League (actually now was not the time to think about the league and how they did this that would just lead to another barrage of emotions and rage)?

The second he did the action Katsuki knew he’d fucked up: Izuku’s body tensed up and his already wide eyes bulged further out his skull. The laughter stopped, leaving them in silence for a moment then-

“NO SHIGS!!!!!” Izuku screamed. It was worse than a normal scream though – there was no fear or sadness, no anger or happiness. It was like he was screaming as there was just nothing else to do, the only hint of emotion being the shrill shrieks of laughter that accompanied it, but even those sounded empty and forced.

It was like the reaction wasn’t caused by emotion, but as a reflex. A defence mechanism.

Just what had to be done to a person to make this their form of protecting themselves?

Katsuki quickly let go quickly of the screaming teen. He could feel his heart rate increasing rapidly just watching Izuku scream and start to thrash around (he did this he triggered this oh god he fucked up again he’s hurt him _again_ ), and he desperately attempted to help him without touching the other boy with pathetic words, “Deku! I-I mean Izuku, calm down, okay? Just calm down, it’s okay, i-it’s- “

The nurse had run forward to turn a knob on a drip that let some drug enter Izuku’s system (were they prepared for this reaction? Was _drugging_ the boy their only solution!?) as he continued to scream with laughter while not noticing any of the attempts to placate him, “NO NO NO SHIGS BAD NO SMILE SHIGS NO BAD SHIGS NO MUST SMILE!!!!”

This didn’t feel real, everything was not how it was supposed to be ~~and Katsuki didn’t know how to deal with it~~ so he did the only thing he knew how to do: he screamed at the vessel of his childhood friend with all the ferocity he could manage. “DEKU STOP!!!” he bellowed as another nurse came up behind him and started dragging him away, his eyesight starting to blur as his brain finally decided to do it’s job and save him from this mess.

The last thing he saw before being dragged out the room was Izuku stuttering out a quiet “N-no.…S-stop...no…” as whatever shit the nurses put in him took action, leaving the boy limp and unconscious, the smile still in place.

And with the green hair out of view, Bakugo Katsuki drifted off as fog filled his vision.

\\(^0^)/

The next thing Katsuki was aware of was sitting back in the waiting room, Aizawa standing in front of him apologising to some of the nurses who were looking rather wearily in Bakugo’s direction. Whatever, they weren’t worth his time. No one was ~~because they would only leave once they found out what he did~~.

He just wanted to go home and forget about Izuku.

Izuku…

There was that moment as he was leaving where he’d seen something in his eyes. That brief flicker of something other than the blind yet all-seeing insanity. Just as he turned back around and met his eyes there’d been that emotion that had been present in the nerd and pissed him off for so many years…

Concern.

Katsuki found himself jumping out his seat and at his teacher’s side before his mind even had the chance to catch up, shouting in his raspy, underused voice:

“He’s still there, I know it!”

Aizawa sighed as he looked apologetically at the weak-ass nurses who were still looking at Katsuki like he’d explode any second (and he just might if they didn’t keep their pathetic simpering glances to themselves), before turning to the teen, “What’re you on about now?”

The explosive blond let out a frustrated growl as his thick-skulled teacher just couldn’t seem to keep up, before saying “I know De- Izuku’s still in there.”

Another sigh from Aizawa, pinching the bridge of his nose as he said, “Bakugo, what proof have you got to make this accusation?”

Katsuki was starting to get annoyed at this bullshit. Why wasn’t his word good enough? It sure as hell should be! He stuttered for a second (pissing himself more by how damn _weak_ he sounded) as he recounted what had happened, “He…he almost remembered me! He started saying the shitty nickname he’s always called me by. He’s in there, I know it!”

“Are you sure?” The lack of belief in hobo-teacher’s words made the teens hands shake, whether out of desperation or anger he didn’t know (he’d tell himself it was the latter, he was never desperate).

“Dammit, I know it sounds stupid, but I _know_ that was him! Like, the old him!” His voice started shaking ~~as his emotions caught up to him~~ anger took over him, the shaking in his hand’s worsening proportionally, “I could see it in his eyes, they lost just a bit of that glint, just for a second, and he looked fucking _concerned_!”

The shaking stilled as he waited with bated breath for Aizawa’s response (not that he really cared, this was for Izuku’s sake not his own). After several seconds of tense silence in which the man seemed to study his eyes closely. Seemingly satisfied, he said “Bakugo, if that’s the case, would you visit Midoriya again soon?”

Katsuki tutted and “Tch, I was going to anyway (that was news to Katsuki but like he was ever gonna go back on his words)! Just cause he’s completely fucked up doesn’t mean I’m gonna just give up on him like some sort of…of pussy? He _will_ get better, j-just you see!”

He hated this. He hated his own lack of words, his newly found stuttering, the League and their involvement _god those shits would pay_ , his mind that just wouldn’t let him escape this situation, the emotions he’d _healthily_ controlled for so long bursting all over the place all day with no end in sight. But most of all he hated that look of _fucking pity_ that had returned to the emo prat that had somehow become his teacher.

“Bakugo, if it’s too much for you we can talk to the school about-“

Hell was he gonna let the conversation take that direction ~~when he was already barely holding himself together~~ , he didn’t need any more useless help! “Fuck no, I’m fine! I’ve already done the whole ‘therapy thing’, there’s no problem (why was he sharing this he needed to shut up now!)!” he shouted just a tad too loud, making the nurses and nearby patients flinch as he attempted to get his teacher off his fucking back cause _he was fine_ and didn’t need anyone!

Aizawa suddenly grabbed Katsuki’s arms (when had he started shaking again like a fucking weakling?), and stated in a slow and steady voice “Bakugo, what day is it?”

That stupid question threw him off. “What?” he replied dumbly, staring blankly at his _apparently brainless_ teacher who asked him dumb-ass questions at a time like this.

Instead of retracting his idiotic question his teacher merely increased his focus on the boy’s eyes and said “Go on, tell me. What day is it.” Maybe his teacher also refused to go back on his words – Katsuki could respect that.

It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes dramatically and huffing as he answered a definite “Wednesday.”

Aizawa seemed to tense his grip on the younger boy’s arms as he replied in a shocked tone (at east by the erasure hero’s standards) “It’s Saturday.”

Well that was just fucking wrong – Katsuki remembered sitting down for only 2 lunches with those shitty extras that surrounded him for some reason. Then again there was that hero lesson, and three silent dinners he vaguely recalled with his parents and – oh. So it was Saturday. ~~This was bad how could he not remember full days he swore he only faded out of unimportant things how could whole days not be important?~~ Whatever, anyone could get the day wrong. “Why the hell does that matter?

Instead of getting a solid response the homeless looking hero moved on (proving to Katsuki that his ~~mistake~~ small error didn’t matter and Aizawa had messed up with asking the question in the first place), his next words freezing up the explosive teen’s brain, “Bakugo, you’re suspended for the next week for bunking off school, damaging school property and showing concerning signs of disassociation and possible trauma that need to be dealt with immediately. Please try and use this time to collect yourself and get some help, or else the school will have to step in more and take a course of action that we believe is best for your future.”

Him? Suspended? He was Bakugo Katsuki, he could do what he wanted with little to no consequences and now he was being _suspended!?_ What would he even do? He couldn’t just stay home, the disappointment and desperate attempts at being a “normal family” were bad enough as they were with school and homework as an excuse to drag himself away from them. And this “course of action” bullcrap? Would it mean he’d have to sit through more shitty therapy, or… would he be pulled from the hero course?

That thought felt like a cannon shooting through his tough armour of anger. Katsuki wasn’t stupid, he knew that even though he was fine he had still been hurt by Izuku’s disappearance and the loss of support from family and classmates alike, if only a little, and the boy suddenly returning to his life in this new broken form had shaken the future hero up. He knew that he didn’t deserve to be a hero after what he put his old friend through and _those horrid words_ , but taking away the one thing Katsuki wanted in the future away from him on the same day as Izuku’s return to his life?

 ~~He couldn’t cope~~ – _he couldn’t cope with that._

But right now he just needed to be alone, to think through his feelings in his head with no one interrupting (and sue him, maybe he needed a quick cry to vent out some of this stress, he was _healthy_ enough to admit that, wasn’t he?), so he cried out with as much anger as he could manage in his wavering voice “I don’t need your worthless pity! It’s Izuku who needs the help, that fucking weakling! H-he’s the one who’s f-fallen apart a-and n-needs to b-be fucking p-put back tog-gether!” He could quite literally feel his armour of agony being stripped off him as he spoke, unravelling as his brain was overwhelmed with painful sadness and fear and he just needed to be alone!

“Bakugo.” His teacher had loosened his grip on the student’s arm so Katsuki quickly yanked his arms out of the hold and stumbled backwards.

He responded with the only answer he could think of in that second: “J-just FUCK OFF!!!” he yelled with the last of his strength, turning away and practically running down the corridor towards the disabled toilet down the hallway. Locking the door behind him with trembling hands, Katsuki collapsed to the floor with tight-chested gasps.

Today had just been too much; seeing the boy he thought he’d _bullied to death_ tortured past insanity by the same people who’d attacked his class turned out to be quite an overwhelming thing (no shit sherlock) and he couldn’t keep it in anymore. ~~Plus apparently his whole ‘brain taking over’ thing wasn’t quite as controlled as he thought it was, nice to know.~~ Fat tears were leaking down his face as his breathing quickened further, the light hitting his retinas in a way that made everything seem overly bright and saturated like a badly photoshopped image, or just a fever. Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut as the white light burned and the coloured walls made him feel nauseous. He felt like there were stones in his lungs, weighing them down and leaving him with no space to breathe, getting the minimal amount of oxygen through forced heaves. There was no way in hell he was gonna let anyone see him like this, he’d just have to wait it out.

After what felt like years (though was most likely as mere few minutes) he felt his breathing retain some form of normality, and he dared to open his eyes. The room was wavering, tilting from one weird angle to the next, and the colours still felt wrong, but at least he was in control again.

And now he was in control, he wanted to slip out of it. It was the easiest to slip away that it had been all day, the exhaustion from his…outburst setting in as his less aware mind (that he could trust cause he could trust himself) took over and the colours around him continued to dull.

Then next thing he remembered was lying on his bed at home, unable to sleep despite it being dark outside.

\\(^0^)/

“Yagi, are you okay?”

The pro looked up from his tea to find Sir Nighteye, his newly reformed friend after years of no contact, staring at him with eyes that would look cold and emotionless if Toshinori didn’t know him better. He could see the curiosity and slight concern hidden beneath the glare.

The number one hero smiled weakly in return, silently wondering what he’d done to gain the concern of his friend (maybe it was because he’d just been staring into space since they arrived at the café), before replying “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

The uptight man’s eyes narrowed, lips pursing as he stated in an icy tone “Really? Because it seems like you’ve been sulking for the past week.” Oops, was he really that obvious? He really should be better at hiding his feelings considering his profession,

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I Mirai?” Toshinori felt a slightly goofy smile stretch across his face despite his feelings. It was nice to be able to talk to his friend, even if they weren’t as close as they used to be.

Mirai didn’t reciprocate the expression, keeping up his cold, hard stare as he retorted, “Not when you show your emotions so openly a toddler could read you.”

The pair were thrown into silence, the former sidekick waiting for the other to reveal this badly hidden burden. He didn’t have to wait long as Toshinori felt his (pathetically weak) will to brood alone crack under the pressure of the watchful yellow eyes piercing their way into his mind.

‘Screw it’, was the skeletal man’s last thought before the dam to his mouth broke, “Alright, you remember that candidate for One for All I found a while back?”

Immediately Mirai’s expression somehow grew even stonier, his teeth gritted (yeah this was the last reaction he wanted before he’d even begun talking about the messed up dilemma taking up his consciousness), speaking in a tone that could only be described as ‘done with All Might’s bullshit’ “Oh for god’s sake Yagi don’t tell me you’re still going on about-“

Attempting to ignore the lack of first name (‘five years Toshi, you two didn’t speak for five years it’ll take time to fix things) and interrupted before Mir- Sasaki? - no, he’ll stay with Mirai, could go off on _another_ rant about Toshinori’s stubbornness, “No, not like that.” A final breath in before practically breathing out the words “It’s just I found him.”

“You were still looking for him?”

To his annoyance Mirai only continued to harden his expression, not even giving the symbol of piece a proper chance to explain, just jumping to conclusions as always. Toshinori could feel the spatter of blood rising up his throat and down his chin as he exclaimed a frustrated “No! He was just found on a certain mission of mine,” just to actually get the seriousness of the situation across to his emotionally stifled friend.

That small outburst finally seemed to make something click for Mirai. “Found?” the ragged blonde could see the cogs turning as his old friend took a sip of his coffee, obviously thinking through all of All Might’s cases and fights from the last few weeks, before his eyes widened slightly (about as much of a shocked reaction to be expected of the man) and he said in a quieter voice “…you don’t mean…?” His eyes were pleading beneath the thin mask of uncaring, as if asking the other pro to go back and change the past, just to confirm that it’s not true that the kind fanboy Toshinori had taken a liking to had _been taken by the same people who wanted to kill him._

Yagi looked away from those eyes, the begging nature behind the look echoing green ones pleading to be told that they didn’t need a quirk to be a hero, begging for one person to believe in him, begging to be saved _while the League tore what was left of the boy piece by piece._

If only he could go back. He’d do anything to fix his answers from that day.

Toshinori addressed the empty teacup in his hands with his next words, “He had been taken by the League not long after my meeting with him. The same day in fact, probably when I was fending off the media.”

Silence embraced the table at the mainly empty café, allowing what those words implied: there was a chance, however small, that the league had taken the boy after seeing him with All Might. Hell, it could be his fault the boy was targeted in the first place!

Eventually the greenette said a soft “How is he?” Toshinori appreciated that – his less sensitive friend at least acknowledging that this discovery had upset the man, loosening his uptight features slightly as concern (no one should be concerned for him he’s All Might he’s supposed to be stronger than that he really is pathetic!) became more obvious in his tense features.

The effort from the clairvoyant pro gave Yagi the confidence to continue, “He’s…not good.” He could already feel the dead green eyes on him again, the attached smile baring its teeth as if preparing to attack, meaningless words slipping out with no logical thought behind them. “He’s currently being kept in Kamino’s long term mental ward, and for good reason! He doesn’t remember anything at all, about himself or others, and he’s completely unresponsive to outside interaction. He’s broken, Mirai, and I feel like it’s my fault that he was taken away…” He felt like he was choking, a mixture of tears and blood dribbling down his face to the barista’s shock. Guilt felt thick in his throat, burning like having a large glob of honey slowly oozing up and down his throat without settling anywhere.

That uneasy flow of guilt could be why Mirai’s next words were only met with denial from his mind: “It wasn’t you. It was the League, the people who actually took him away are the ones to blame.”

“But if I just got to him-“

“You’re one man, I think you sometimes forget that. You can’t be everywhere at once.”

“But I’m supposed to be All Might-“

“And All Might is still a person.” The force was back in his tone, making Toshinori inwardly cringe. He knew how much his friend hated it when he talked bad about himself, and yet he just sat here and did just that – the idiot he was! “Now if you’re just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself I’ll be on my way.”

As Mirai stood to leave the sitting blonde began frantically waving his hands in front of him awkwardly, “Wait, I need advice on one thing” he shouted just a tad to loud to the annoyance of his old sidekick and the occupants of the other few filled tables. He got distracted way too easily, he almost forgot to mention the actual dilemma his brain was stuck over. Looking anywhere but at his friend, he muttered, “It’s not logical, or smart, but I want to apologise to the boy’s mother, a-and show her my true form.”

The tension at the table for two increased tenfold in the blink of an eye, but Toshinori had gotten the ball rolling now and refused to stop it until he’d stated his case. “It’s just I feel so guilty for what happened, and I want to support her and young Midoriya for as long as they need it, not just for their sake but also to put my own guilt to rest.” And the tears were back. Great, just what he needed. “I am aware it’s a selfish reason, but I-I just-“

He felt his throat close up as emotion started to get the better of him. Disapproving eyes were boring into his, sucking at his confidence as he pushed through his self-pitying spiel, “I feel so weak and pathetic and I need to do something about it otherwise I’m not sure how much longer I can smile for the people!”

He finally looked up at the judgmental face and the two pros stared each other down, one tear and blood covered and the other stony faced and pulling off looking neutral and furious at the same time (it really was a talent on its own). To Toshinori’s surprise his friend looked away first, eyes shutting as a sad sigh escaped between slightly parted lips. “You’re right, it is a selfish and irrational decision.” Before the man had a chance for his heart to sink into the remains of his stomach the ex-sidekick continued, “However I know how you work – if you don’t do this you’ll just let your feelings fester and ruin the peace you’ve created as All Might, which will be worse than not taking action. So while I disagree with what you want to do personally, I think you should go ahead.” With that the man swiftly placed some money on the table for his coffee and swiftly stood up to leave.

Wow. That was not what he’d been expecting. He’d expected to be beaten back to harsh reality, reminded that he’s irrational and too emotionally driven that it makes him sloppy, or something like that. Half out of gratitude, half out of shock, the man murmured a quiet but genuine “Thank you,” a smile growing across his gaunt face.

“Oh, and Toshinori?” A warm glow lit up inside the man at his name, Mirai turned around near the café exit to tell him one final thing. “Just remember that you’re strong, with or without One for All. Don’t devalue the person beneath the power.” That comment would normally hurt, repeating in his head with thoughts such as ‘not true’ and ‘lying to spare your feelings’, but this time he just nodded as brightly as the skeletal figure could manage. “See you soon,” the greenette said as a small smile appeared on his face, a rare sight that was well worth the wait.

He felt his smile grow just that little bit wider, “You too!” he grinned like a jolly idiot, just happy to finally have a return of affection from his former closest friend.

Sure, he would’ve liked young Midoriya as a successor, someone he could train himself from scratch and hopefully grow a great bond with that he missed out on with his own teacher. He would do anything to turn back the clock and escape from the media just that little bit faster to reach the helpless boy before anything bad could’ve happened.

But he could not deny that fixing his bond with Mirai made him happier than he had felt in years.

In his state of self-reassurance and comfort the blonde hero didn’t notice the dark hooded figure with shaggy bluish-grey hair sitting a few tables down with a list labelled “ _Toshinori Yagi_ ” and a circled side note saying “ _Kamino’s Long Term Mental Ward_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! Sorry it was a bit of a weak chapter, I had a few issues trying to get it to sound right, and this was the best I could make out of my crap chapter summaries I wrote for myself when I started planning out this story!


	6. It's a start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa tries something, and an icyboi makes his first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN SO LONG I'M SO SORRRRRYYYYY!!!!!  
> Inspiration has just been lacking during isolation, and it took way to long to find the motivation to make this.  
> Online school sucks so there's that as well.
> 
> Anyways enjoy this new chapter!

Shouta sighed heavily as he contemplated his next actions. He knew Bakugo was not doing well, it was obvious to anyone who met the boy! The kid always walked around school lifelessly, eyes glazed as he trudged from class to class, only to snap out of it for angry rants and barely constrained rages. He’d been losing weight rapidly since the start of the year, probably even before that (maybe since Midoriya’s disappearance?) and seemed to go out of his way to avoid social interaction when he was more present.

Bakugo’s file said he’d been going to private and family therapy every week since a couple weeks after the initial incident, but if this continues…Shouta’s gonna have to talk about re-designating the blonde teenager, maybe to one of the highly reliable on-campus therapists?

So the boy clearly wasn’t mentally stable currently, especially when it came to Midoriya (his multiple breakdowns the day prior could not be forgotten easily, along with the confirmation that yes, Bakugo was not remembering even close to everything that happened each day). However, if he was correct; if the greenette had actually recognised his childhood friend…this could be a revelation, a sign of some kind of progress.

Shouta could really do with some good news around now.

He glanced over at Mrs Mi- Inko, who was sitting in her usual spot on the other side of her son. They were sitting in the same mostly comfortable silence that they did for the majority of the visits to the younger Midoriya (minus a small chat at the beginning and end), accompanied with the quiet mumbling and stifled giggles from the malnourished kid. Shouta wanted to try something new, though he would need Inko’s permission.

As if on cue, the worn mother looked up towards the pro, head resting on the headrest of the armchair that had been brought into the room for the woman (considering how long it was predicted that the kid to be in this ward for it was worth the investment), and Shouta couldn’t help but wince. She looked better rested than she did on the fateful day he called her to the hospital now that the staff forced her to go and take a break from time to time, but was still clearly exhausted from the countless hours she’d stayed and refused to leave her son’s side since his rescue, and the hero couldn’t help but feel guilty for that. If he’d been just a bit more efficient, if they’d learnt about the League just a bit earlier maybe this family of two would be living a very different, much happier life right now.

“What is it Eraserhead?” she said softly, as if worried about breaking the almost-silence that filled the room. “I can tell you’re thinking about something, and it’s always better to talk it out rather than bottle things up.”

Shouta shuffled uncomfortably in his much-less-comfortable visitor chair before speaking; “It’s more of an idea than anything, but there’s something I’ve wanted to try since Bakugo’s first visit.”

This alerted Inko, making her sit up straight. They’d both seen Bakugo on his first visit on the Saturday, and the following ones on the Sunday and Monday (apparently he’d decided to spend his suspension time meant for self-healing to instead visit the hospital as much as he could), and it was clear as day to both adults that the blonde was not okay. It had concerned Shouta, and had made Inko feel similarly if her serious expression was anything to go by.

Aizawa continued “Bakugo mentioned something about Midoriya recognising him. While I am fully aware might not have been the case, I believe it’s worth further exploration, but only if-“

“I trust you.” Shouta looked at the woman in shock as she smiled warmly back, “You rescued my Izu, and I trust your judgement. If you have an idea that might help him, then you have my full permission.”

The pro hero was left staring at the green haired angel for a few moments as his brain tried to compute what she’d just said. She trusted him? After he failed to save her son until it was almost too late? After he’d abandoned the Midoriya case when it came up cold after a few measly months? After the mess he’d made last time he tried to ‘help’ Izuku, ending with the boy in a wild fit and a slap to the face? He couldn’t understand _why_ Inko kept trusting him like this!

“Are you sure, I do-“

“Aizawa. Stop. I trust you.” Inko said, reaching over to lightly squeeze his arm, keeping firm eye contact with the hero. The small action filled Shouta with warmth. Everything about the woman was just so…so kind. So caring. So motherly. She surely was the most motherly figure he’d ever had in his life, and he didn’t even know her that well.

Yeah, he was going to do all he could to help Inko and Midoriya.

He swallowed before he spoke again, “Okay, so I want to see if Midoriya can recognise you, even at all. I’ll be careful to avoid any known triggers (while most the time the frail boy seemed to fall into his screaming flailing fits for no apparent reason (that sadly hinted he wasn’t aware of his environment or what was being said to him), they seemed most frequent when the League, Shigaraki by full name (Shigs seemed fine), school classmates, friends and hobbies were brought up). I want you to comfort him gently while I speak. Feel free to tell me to stop at any time.”

Inko gave a small nod, mentally preparing herself for…whatever this attempt was. Taking a sip from the coffee he’d brought with him, he turned to face the broken (or hopefully not so broken) child between them. On the other side, Inko began to lightly stroke her son’s scarred hand, being careful not to apply too much pressure, as while he didn’t show any reaction to being touched, the scarred covering his body didn’t leave much to the imagination when it came to whatever physical torment the younger Midoriya had gone through. Then number of handprints still made bile rise up Aizawa’s throat if he thought too hard about it.

Shouta began speaking to the spaced out boy in front of him, “Izuku Midoriya, do you remember who this is?” He gestured to the woman on the other side, hoping for some form of reaction.”

Instead he was greeted with the same eerie smile and giggles, glazed eyes staring at the wall straight ahead, muttering slightly louder than he was previously, “Smile f-for Shigs, he hates it!” he recited, as if his words held the most important meaning imaginable, the wide smile and eyes only adding to the crazed fanatic vibes his words gave off. Sometimes it was really hard to link the sweet Midoriya he’d heard so much about to the beyond insane individual that lay in front of him right now.

The hero tried again, speaking clearer in hopes of some of the words reaching the boy that was hopefully still in there somewhere: “Midoriya, concentrate on what I’m saying, do you recognise this woman?”

Inko put a slight bit more pressure on the boy’s arm, working her way up towards a comforting position on his shoulder, and spoke in the silence Aizawa had left for her son to reply in, “Please, Izuku sweetie, it’s me, remember? It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Shouta so badly wanted a reaction. He wanted the woman to get that happiness and relief she’d been waiting for for so long.

But Izuku didn’t stop, continuing his ranting and raving to someone neither of the adults could see. “Shigs says no smiling, but smiling makes Shigs angry, so smile at bad Shigs!” his laughter grew louder, a sign that the boy was working himself up into another screaming match with the empty space around him.

Inko saw the signs too, and immediately began massaging the malnourished teen’s shoulder slightly harder, attempting to ground him in some way, “P-please Izu! You must be in there! Shigar-Shigs is gone, it’s just me now, it’s okay!” Her breathing was quickening along with Izuku’s, desperation and sadness seeping though every pore while her son’s leaked manic happiness and joy.

Shit. Of course it had failed. Why on Earth would it work? Shouta had let down the pair again, after Inko had put so much trust in him!

He leaned over to hit the emergency button on the wall behind him, the one that called a member of the hospital staff to come and force the boy into a drug induced sleep before he could harm himself or others with his inevitable thrashing.

But just before he hit the button, the laughter stopped. Shouta froze for a second, confused, before he heard an all too familiar voice say “Smile.”

Inko gasped and Aizawa immediately turned to face the two greenettes to be meted with a sight he’d remember for years to come. The mother still had her hand on her son’s shoulder, frozen in the middle of a rubbing motion. Izuku…he’d frozen too, his arm in the process of rising to thrash around as it so often did, but had stopped in a position that looked more like he was…reaching out? And his eyes…they were still, horrid, glazed, putrid, ~~inhumane~~ and completely unlike the sparkling emeralds they were in the pictures Inko showed of him, but they weren’t staring off at the unseen point ahead of him. They’d shifted to the side, not quite latching onto Inko but almost pointing in her general direction. The boy spoke up again, seemingly choking back the laughter as words stuttered their way through the smile that was still unmoving on the boy’s face, “Smile….d-don’t s-scared, i-it’s f-funny. D-don’t scared...”

Tears spilt from Inko’s eyes and Shouta felt a slight prick in his own. This…this was something special. Something new alright. It was…progress.

A smile was forming on Aizawa’s face and he didn’t even try to stop it. Even when the stiffled laughter became louder and Izuku’s hands fell back by his side and his dead eyes turned back to the point ahead of him the smile stayed. He said, “Izuku, I repeat, do you recognise this woman?” and didn’t receive an answer past the quiet murmuring and (slightly quieter?) giggles, yet he still smiled. He hadn’t expected an answer that time, but he’d already gotten more than he expected in the first place.

He saw a smile begin to form on Inko’s face through the tears as she continued to softly stroke Midoriya’s shoulder, and the two made eye contact.

“You- you saw that, right?” the woman choked out, “It w-wasn’t just m-me? Izu- Izu just – he just – did he really-? “

Shouta stood up to leave the room. He’d have some files to update, along with some news for the medical staff. Hell, he might just go out his way and take Hizashi out for a meal – his best friend sure deserved it, especially with all the bull he put the blonde hero through.

He attempted to stifle his smile as he looked down at Inko one final time, preparations for his small celebration with Hizashi later already forming in his head (Where should they eat? Zashi likes American food, right? Could he say why they were celebrating? How much could he tell his friend about the case, and Izuku?).

“It’s a start.”

¯\\_( ❛ ͜ʖ ❛ )_/¯

Izuku knew there was something wrong with him, but he didn’t quite know what. The woman – the woman Izuku _knew_ he knew – always seemed so scared around him. Was Izuku the scary thing? Izuku needed to show her he was nice. Izuku would smile until she was no longer afraid. Izuku was mildly aware he was speaking, it made him want to laugh again FUNNY FUNNY SMILE AND FUNNY LAUGH. No, Izuku can’t laugh, she always seems more scared when he did. That was confusing, laughter brings happiness, doesn’t it? But if it scares her he won’t laugh, just this time.

Did he always think this way? Izuku couldn’t remember. He knew the woman and the boy, Izuku was sure of it. Though the name the blonde called Izuku left him confused. His name was Izuku, so why did that other name burn his insides with…something? A feeling? Izuku didn’t like the name, and it hurt to be called it, and not in the funny way. But it still felt like his name. But that can’t be right. His name is Izuku. Shigs had taught him to only speak when addressed as Izuku, otherwise their next game FUNNY GAMES BAD SHIGS BAD would start early, with more levels. Maybe this other name was a trap? Shigs SMILE FOR SHIGS testing him from the shadows? Shigs just watching and waiting for Izuku to mess up and then the BAD BAD games he can’t remember except the pain that comes with them NO HEROES SMILE will start again and Izuku will lose BAD SHIGS NO FUNNY SHIGS SMILE even more of himself.

No. Just answer to Izuku.

The thin blond man who came a couple times also seemed familiar. Why couldn’t Izuku remember him? Why couldn’t Izuku remember any of them? He should be able to, he knew them for a long time, why couldn’t he? They knew him, they knew his name. They were important to Izuku, but whenever he tried to remember more about them Izuku’s head would hurt BAD and Shigs might come back and hurt them SMILE he would he would hurt them SMILE FOR SHIGS so instead Izuku would smile and laugh and say the words he doesn’t remember saying and everything would be fine as SHIGS IS GONE ANDTHEYCANALLBEHAPPYASEVERYTHINGISSOFUNNY!!!

The black–haired man also knew his name, but that’s because he saved Izuku. He was a hero, he told Izuku. That should mean something to Izuku, shouldn’t it? He knew heroes smiled FUNNY HEROES, and that was good, but what else? Izuku should know this! Izuku wanted to ask, but then he’d need to use his own words. That hurt too much BAD BAD BAD SHIGS. Izuku already tried that when the boy came. Izuku had just tried again with the woman. Izuku couldn’t do that again. Not now. It felt better when Izuku let his mouth move without him.

But Izuku knew he’d have to hurt too much if he wanted to fix himself. He’d have to be in pain to make the others smile, Izuku must make them smile, and he can’t do that when he can’t think or remember or say what he wants! Pain was funny anyway, right? He’d just have to laugh at it like he did with Shigs!

Oh, but he wasn’t going to laugh. The woman seemed scared of Izuku’s laughing. Hmm…

Izuku needs to do something, but he’s just not sure what…

¯\\_( ❛ ͜ʖ ❛ )_/¯

Katsuki was back at the hospital. Again.

Since he’d been suspended for a week on Saturday (something his parents had wanted to talk about since the school had alerted them of the update – just another reason to get out the house), apparently to fix “his attitude” or some shit. The decision was stupid – Katsuki had the perfect attitude to become a hero! He was strong, brave, talented, determined, hardworking and _perfectly mentally stable thank you_. He’d even been going out of his way to reign in his temper to create a better impression ~~and not at all because he’d learnt the consequences of lashing out on others like that~~. Had ~~De~~ Izuku’s reappearance shaken him? Sure, a little bit. He wasn’t fucking heartless, after all, but he’d still managed better than most would!

The night after visiting his childhood friend in hospital, when he’d found himself back home and unable to sleep, he’d had a long think to himself. After hours of lying in his bed in the dark he reached a conclusion:

He was going to keep visiting Izuku. He didn’t care that his parents didn’t want him to. He didn’t care if it went against what Aizawa-sensei wanted him to do on this week off (which he was still pissed off about by the way, like he was missing out on the fucking Sports Festival of all things!), and he didn’t fucking care about the guilt he felt every time he thought of those green eyes and hair and freckles and that creepy-ass smile!

Screw all those things! He was going to make up for what he did all those months ago. The hell he put Izuku through for years until he was no longer there to experience it and it was too late for Katsuki to fix things. He’d never be able to fully make up for it (nothing could make up for the decade of bullying and mocking and _hurting_ he caused), he was sure of it, but he would come and support Aunt Inko and Izuku as much as he could until the Izuku was better (because he _would_ get better), and damn he’d support them as much as a busy hero course student possibly could!

~~At least when he was actually present enough to support them.~~

That was another thing he’d thought about. The whole…missing days thing. It had been a shock, but he was fine. If he couldn’t remember things it was only because his brain decided the stuff happening wasn’t necessary ~~it’s not healthy and he knew it~~. If he couldn’t remember home stuff, it’s cause it sucked. If he couldn’t remember school stuff, it’s cause his brain must of decided this bunch of suck ups were just as bad as the old ones ~~and would turn on him just like the others did when they learnt what he did~~. He still remembered all the hero training and shit, so his brain was clearly doing what it was supposed to do – filtering out all the shit he didn’t need to bother with ~~then why couldn’t he remember other lessons or what he ate or what he last said to his goddamn parents~~. He could trust his brain. If he couldn’t trust himself then who the hell could he?

Maybe he would try and focus a bit more at school though. Just for his grades’ sake.

He forced himself to take a bite of the protein bar he’s been holding in his hand the whole trip to Kamino as he entered into the hospital lobby / waiting room. That was the only thing he really agreed with Aizawa sensei about when it came to his “health”. He hadn’t been eating as much as he used to, he was pretty sure about that, and that wouldn’t work with the increased amount of exercise he did with hero training. He could feel the dull throb that seemed to be becoming more and more common ~~it was there every conscious moment it wasn’t good his muscles were breaking down for energy~~ even now, and admittedly his shirt and jeans seemed _a tiny bit_ looser than he remembered them being.

He could think things through later. Once he got back to Izuku.

Katsuki shuffled over to the front desk, slamming his hand on the desk and repeating what he’d said on both the Sunday and Monday to the only slightly surprised man behind the desk (good, the other staff had been told about him, as it should be), “Bakugo Katsuki, here to see Midoriya Izuku in the Long Term Mental Ward. I’ve got permission to see him by Midoriya Inko so don’t bother stopping me. Kay?”

“O-one second sir,” was the response he got as the man looked at him irritably while typing (probably his name?) annoyingly loud on the reception computer with nails long enough to be considered claws. Katsuki returned the favour with a glare and a small growl. He understood they had to be careful with visitors, especially with patients like Izuku who’d been abducted by villains, but it didn’t stop the whole process from being fucking annoying. Would he have to do this every time? Shit, he hoped not, or he might just flip that pc off the desk onto the floor!

“There we go, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” the man behind the desk smirked slightly at the _enraged_ teen. Who the fuck did this grappling-hooks-for-hands fucker think he was!? _No one_ looks down at Katsuki Bakugo and gets away with it!

This pompous shitstain was lucky that Katsuki had more important things on his mind right now, ones that involved not getting kicked out the hospital. “Burn in hell you wannabe Edward Scissorhands fucktard,” was all he snarled out before turning on his heel and heading down the necessary hallway to reach Izuku’s room.

The Long Term Mental Ward was at the other end of the hospital, most of the emergency rooms and Physical Injury Wards placed closer to the main entrance and different carparks for cases that needed to be treated immediately. Izuku was up on floor 11, away from all the action below.

This meant Katsuki had time to think on his way up and across to the designated room. He seemed to of been thinking an awful lot since Izuku’s rescue, and it honestly felt exhausting after months of just ~~unknowingly drifting through life~~ focusing on what’s necessary.

That was another thing: he’d been ~~self aware~~ focused a lot more than usual. The last couple of days had felt like years with how long he’d sat in Izuku’s room, unable to faze out. His old ~~punching bag~~ childhood friend’s presence seemed to make him more…grounded? Guess he could say that to Hobo-sensei if he dared question why the fuck he was there again instead of whatever self-improvement shit he wanted Katsuki to do.

It was the Wednesday now, four days into the suspension, and his third visit to Izuku since the first one. He’d gone on Sunday and Monday, sitting by Izuku’s side for as long as he could until ~~the guilt became too much and the greenette’s mumbling and laughing made him feel like he was going insane~~ he got bored of sitting there thinking and going on his phone. Aunt Inko was there too, which was…something. He still hadn’t really tried to properly talk to her, and she seemed to ~~thankfully~~ respect that enough, making only occasional comments about the latest news, or asking about how UA was ~~as if she didn’t know everything about it from her son rambling about it for years~~. It was awkward small talk, but from his Aunt it felt warm and kind, just a small comfort during the otherwise silent visits.

~~Katsuki didn’t deserve that woman’s love.~~

He hadn’t visited yesterday though. He hadn’t been able to – not with his fucking lame excuse of a therapy meeting held every Tuesday. First it was family therapy, where they basically sat in a room and learnt how dysfunctional they were – a pretty shit therapy method Katsuki thought. That was followed with his private sessions, which he didn’t remember a whole lot about. He remembered the so called “therapist” being a thin greasy fucker with gelled hair and a constant fake look of sympathy that just pissed him off. He remembered insulting him a few times at the beginning of each session, then fazing out. Those sessions weren’t worth his time. This guy didn’t care what the hell Bakugo was feeling, he just wanted the pay check at the end of it. So he’d jump out the three-story high window of the bare therapy office before he shared anything personal with that slimy leech.

Even though he hadn’t been very present most of that day, Katsuki was pretty sure he had felt more shit than he had in a while. Being stuck at home and in that disinfectant-smelling therapy room when he could’ve been by Izuku’s side made him feel like the fucking scum of the earth. He had to try making it up to the Midoriyas, and he couldn’t do that when he was stuck hours away with disappointed parents and therapists that did nothing. Even if Mum and Dad wanted to cut off all connections with the Midoriyas after finding out what he did, he ~~couldn’t~~ wouldn’t stop visiting them. They’d have to hold him back themselves if they wanted to stop him.

Katsuki realised that he’d at some point reached the door labelled ‘Patient 10342’ – Izuku’s patient number. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d stood there for ~~which should be worrying~~ , but all that mattered was that he was there now.

The first thing he noticed when he slid open the door was that Aunt Inko wasn’t there. It wasn’t too surprising, he’d heard about how the nurses practically dragged her away for a few hours everyday to sleep and get some fresh air. He huffed and shut the door behind him, before flopping into the uncomfortable visitor’s chair (the armchair was unofficially reserved for Aunt Inko only) that had been added for him. It was in the corner of the room, further away from Izuku’s bed as being right next to him could be a bit…overwhelming.

“Hey Izuku,” he grumbled out to unhearing ears, “It’s just me, Kacchan.” After the incident before, he’d started referring to himself as Kacchan around Izuku, hoping maybe it would trigger something.

So far there’d been nothing.

He turned on his phone, ready for another long day of awareness and too much thinking time. He was just about to start scrolling through one of his favourite forums (Best Hero Wins of All Time – feat. All Might) when he felt a crinkling sound from behind. He moved to find a piece of paper - it had been attached to the back of his chair and had been crumpled slightly when he slumped against it. Seeing it was addressed to him, he tore it from the tape that held it in place and began reading.

_Dear Katsuki,_

_I’m leaving this message just before I go on my break, as I know there’s a high chance you’ll arrive when I’m gone._

_Yesterday Aizawa and I saw an improvement in Izuku. He didn’t quite acknowledge us, but he was more present than he’s been since his rescue! We don’t quite know what caused it, but I’d really appreciate it if you try and talk to him from time to time when I’m out. I don’t want to seem pushy though, I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with! Sorry if it came off like I was forcing you._

_I hope you know that I’ll happily support you during this time. It’s not been easy on any of us, let alone someone as young as you. Feel free to talk to me about anything if you want to, though it’s your choice. Just know that I care for you Katsuki, and don’t want you getting hurt._

_Wishing you all the best,_

_Aunt Inko_

Katsuki decided to ignore the second part of the note for now (why couldn’t people get that he was fine and didn’t need their fucking help!) and instead focus on the first. An improvement in ~~De~~ Izuku? What type of improvement? How drastic? Did this mean he was healing?

It was then that Bakugo noticed another different thing in the room; it was much quieter. Izuku’s insane muttering was still there, but the accompanying laughter seemed…stifled? As if he was trying to hold it in.

He glanced to his broken friend’s face, and was slightly disappointed to see the usual deranged smile and dead eyes greeting him. But not very. Not when he’d expected no improvement, at least not yet. The thought of Izuku getting better made him feel warm, like the old fire that used to drive him was back (when had it gone out?). It wasn’t like the sparks and roaring heat that made him angry, that helped him through the USJ attack and hero training, ~~that felt like they were slowly eating up his insides and he had to leash to keep in check~~. This was a good, confident heat that he hadn’t realised was missing until it returned.

It had been too long since Katsuki had felt so determined.

He wasn’t going to half-ass this. If Izuku was getting better, then he was going to be the best fucking help there ever was! He’d prove that he was fine, and that he was the most useful, most damn heroic student there ever was, and not the villainous bullshit his crappy middle school had labelled him!

That started with talking to the greenette. If Inko thought talking to her son would help, then Katsuki would be the _best_ talker the world had ever seen!

“Well Izuku, y’like heroes, right?” he began, looking down at his phone, opting to play a mindless game in the background rather than reading so he could focus on what would come out of his mouth, “Well then you’ll love what happened in All Might’s latest rescue mission. He’s working at UA now, and I’m taught by him! He’s a fucking goof, but just as heroic as he is on TV. Anyways cause of his new position he partnered up with that annoying hero you liked…the one who looked like a cockatoo….Present Mic, that’s the one! This other hero with a weird mouth and a blood quirk or some shit was there too but hell if I remember his name. He teaches the other hero class though, I know that much. Anyways the three of them were facing off against this group that called themselves ‘The Second Wave’, a bunch of pretty powerful people who thought those with weaker quirks should be “exterminated”. Fucking idiots! They looked even more stupid when All Might took out ten of them in ten seconds flat, yellow bird and whats-his-face taking out the others not too long after. Then the villain’s backup came, if you could call those weaklings backup, and All Might…” Katsuki continued his story, his mind trying to recap the details of the fight that he knew Izuku’s nerdy brain would’ve freaked out over.

He would help Izuku. He would make the nerd get better, even if he had to force the shattered pieces back together with his own bare hand.

He would go beyond: Plus Ultra!

¯\\_( ❛ ͜ʖ ❛ )_/¯

Todoroki Shouto stood where he belonged: on the first-place podium at the UA Sports Festival. He’d done it, he’d won without using his father’s power, he’d proved him wrong.

But it was a cheap win. It wouldn’t count. The next strongest student (after Todoroki himself) wasn’t even here: he was suspended the week before for a reason that none of the class knew, but Shouto’s best bet was that the annoyingly grumpy boy’s barely concealed temper had finally exploded. Then Iida, who he was meant to face in the final, had to leave last moment for a ‘family emergency’, leaving an underwhelmed audience with no final matchup, just Present Mic stating that Shouto was the winner by default in a voice that seemed rather unenthusiastic by the loud heroes’ standards. _This_ was not something to be proud of, it was almost like the universe had carved an easy path for him, leading him to first place with minimal effort.

Shouto knew his father would not be proud.

The heterochromatic teenager attempted to shove those thoughts to the back of his head for later (no point worrying now he’d deal with his father during ‘training’ where he’ll be beaten for sure shit shit shit) as All Might leaped into the stadium with the medals, interrupting Midnight by accident as he announced his presence.

He glumly watched as All Might gave the third place medals to Tokoyami and some snarky boy from 1B called Momoma? Minema? It doesn’t matter, he was no more than an annoyance, a small hurdle blocking Shouto’s path towards overtaking his father. The number one hero said something to both contestants which Shouto couldn’t hear over the constant rumbling of noise from the crowd, even giving both of them a small hug, before heading over to the first place podium.

“Young Todoroki,” the hero exclaimed, the crowd quieting slightly more to hear what was to be said to the winner, “You have truly proven to everyone here today that you have what it takes to be a great hero! (yeah right he had it easy everyone knew he had it easy he didn’t deserve it) I’m sure we’re all looking forward to seeing how you continue to grow during your time at UA!”

All Might leaned forwards and gave him a small hug, in which Todoroki couldn’t help but tense up as _large burning hands grabbed him and slammed him into the wall again it was fine he was fine_ – if the Symbol of Peace noticed the increased tension in the boy he said nothing, as he said in a quieter voice “I hope you can appreciate this win for what it is young man, even if you didn’t have that final matchup you more than proved your worthiness for first place.”

“Thank you,” Shouto replied stiffly as the hero moved out of the hug. It didn’t matter what All Might thought, hell, it didn’t even matter what he thought about it himself! All that mattered was that his father would see this ‘win’ as a failure, an embarrassment to the family name, and Shouto knew all too well what this meant was waiting for him when he got home. He could feel Endeavor’s raging glare on the back of his head from here.

The number one hero gave Todoroki one final look, before turning back to the audience, microphone back on now he’d finished his private messages to those on the podium, “Give it up for the first-year winners of this years Sports Festival!” The crowd burst into cheers and shouts, but it all felt less enthusiastic to Shouto than previous years; all the smiling faces masking the disappointment of the anticlimactic ending, and it wasn’t enough, it wouldn’t please his old man, he wouldn’t get the break he wanted for winning first.

Nothing would’ve been enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go!  
> Once again sorry for the massive gap between chapters! There's no promise of when the next chapter will come out (though trust me there will be new chapters, I'm in no way giving up on this fic), but I'm going to try update slightly faster in the future!


	7. Progress continues, but so does time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inko cries, Bakugo tries, and Toshinori...well he tries too but he's so oblivious to feelings sometimes it HURTS-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from my duvet grave*
> 
> Guess who's back?...Back again?
> 
> Okay but really I'm back now!!!!! I'm so sorry for the massive hiatus! Quarantine messed me up a lot and I had a lot of personal shit to deal with, but now I'm back at school and things are getting better so aayyyeeeee
> 
> Anyways I hope this chapter is alright! Honestly I'm not happy with it (especially the Toshinori scene) and it's quite fillery but I used it to try and get back into the writing process!!!!

Aizawa sat in the hospital chair, half asleep while keeping an eye on Midoriya. The boy was giggling again, unfortunately not stifled this time.

It was a sign he was slowly working his way into another screaming fit.

Since that first sign of vague awareness from the small greenette, there had been progress. In the two weeks since the discovery there had been multiple similar moments of Izuku _almost talking to someone_ , with his hollow eyes looking in their vague direction while less random yet still nonsensical sentences spilt from between his bared teeth.

The smile had not budged an inch.

While the progress was great, more than what Shouta had initially hoped for considering how broken Midoriya was when he first found him, it was still _infuriating_. While the boy was now aiming is nonsensical rambling towards people it was still just that: nonsense. It was great to see improvements (Shouta would be lying if he said his heart didn’t lighten up every time Midoriya showed the slightest hint of becoming more aware), but only so much could be done to help someone incapable of reacting to the world around them.

Injuries can be healed. Mental scars can fade. Therapies and treatments can be used to help deal with mental illnesses and past traumas. Friends and family can support others through the healing process.

It was infuriating how little anyone could do to help Izuku Midoriya.

Then there were the tantrums: there still didn’t seem to be a clear trigger to what caused them. They just seemed to…happen. Sometimes they seemed triggered by mentioning the League, but he would just as likely start screaming when alone in the room. All Shouta could guess was that they had something to do with whatever was going on in the boy’s head.

Unfortunately there also wasn’t a sure way to stop them. The only person who’d had any luck was Inko, and that had only worked for three of the several tantrums so far.

Shota gingerly placed his hand on Midoriya’s upper arm, cautiously attempting to recreate the comforting movement Inko had previously. “Midoriya, it’s all right, you’re safe now. You don’t need to be scared anymore. Just calm down,” he said, trying to recall the comforting platitudes the woman had previously used. “Shigs isn’t here, he’s not going to get you again…”

With a sigh, he turned and pressed the emergency button. It wasn’t working; the boy was already half-shouting, and any second now the full on fit would start.

Within a couple of seconds a pair of nurses were rushing into the room (they were probably anticipating this, considering Midoriya had at least one of these fits a day since his rescue); one immediately pinning the greenette’s arms to his side while the other turned the dial on the drip.

It took a little longer than usual for the boy’s cries and shouts to die into silence – Shouta’s guess was that they’d started using a lighter sedative considering how often they had to use it. After a few seconds of no noise from the sleeping figure, the two nurses sighed, shoulders slumping. Shouta joined them as he released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. While he now knew the boy was harmless, Shouta couldn’t help the slight shiver of fear that appeared during each of the tantrums.

One of the nurses looked over to the hero a plastered on a sad smile. “ ‘s not a good day. His third fit since he woke up this morning,” he said. “Might have something to do with Mrs Midoriya’s absence today.”

Shouta snapped to attention, his heart picking up slightly as his thoughts raced ahead. Why wouldn’t Inko be here? It was hard enough to make her ever leave Midoriya’s side when she wasn’t meant to, let alone during regular visiting hours! He’d just expected that when she wasn’t there that the staff had dragged her off to rest again, but then she would’ve left a note, wouldn’t she? What if something had happened to her? _What if the League_ \- “

“S-sir please! It’s nothing to worry about!” It was only at the nurse’s exclamation that the underground pro even realised that he’d stood up, hand gripping his capture weapon. The nurse continued; “She got an urgent call from her work at lunchtime and had to leave immediately. Sorry I-I shocked you, I thought she’d of texted you about it already or-or something….”

Shouta forced himself to sit back down, loosening his grip on his scarf. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy, his guts squirming with thoughts of _what if something had happened?_ Attempting to shake off the feeling, he got out his phone to distract himself.

It didn’t work.

Luckily for him Inko walked into the room only a couple minutes later, ending his steadily increasing panic. However the panic was quickly replaced with concern: the mother was clearly exhausted as she trudged back towards her armchair, and if the redness of her eyes were anything to go by she’d been crying. A lot.

“Inko, are you…okay?” Shouta mumbled out, feeling slightly awkward with the question despite how he’d gotten closer with the woman lately. The weariness emanating off her made him feel like he was seriously breaching her privacy.

The woman did not seem to feel the same, as she replied with a worn out sigh before croaking out, “Work called. I…I need to go back if I want to keep my job there. My boss says he’s give me all the time off he can afford but now…”

To Shouta’s dismay Inko began sniffling again, her eyes beginning to water again. “Just- Just work calling me back, a-and the hospital trying to limit my hours…I-I just d-don’t want to leave my b-baby again!”

As the woman broke down into tears Shouta stood up and made his way to her side. He pulled her in for a hug, holding her firmly as she sobbed into the front of his jumpsuit. He wanted to comfort her. Inko of all people deserved to be comforted and reassured that yes, _everything will get better_ , especially considering all the shit the sweet woman had gone through in the last year. But he just didn’t know _how_ – he really wished he had some of Hizashi’s skills with people.

Maybe he could ask his friend for advice later?

What felt like a lifetime passed before Inko pulled away, sniffling lightly as she dried her eyes. Fuck, he really needed to say something! He couldn’t just leave his friend (yes, at this point Inko was a friend, he couldn’t deny it) feeling like this without doing anything.

“Inko I’m- I’m not the best with words,” he said, trying to get his emotions across through his naturally monotone voice, “But I want you to know that I’ll be here for you as long as you need. I know this new change is going to be hard for you, but I think it’s necessary.”

Inko’s bloodshot eyes shot up from her lap to meet his as he continued, “Sorry, I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s true. Midoriya isn’t going anywhere, and you can still visit him. Hell, I’m still gonna keep visiting him, if you allow me, of course. I’d like to keep supporting both of you as Midoriya recovers. But you also need to keep your own life going. Time keeps moving on, for you and Midoriya.”

Shouta glanced over to the petite sleeping figure. It was true, time really did keep moving. It had been almost a full month since the rescue, and the boy really had changed. He was still underweight, but no longer the skeletal figure he’d found laughing in a puddle of his own blood. The greenette was clearly still far, far away from being _sane_ , but comparing him to the dead-eyed child Shouta could barely describe as human…yes, Midoriya really had gotten better.

They sat in silence for a minute before Inko spoke again; “That’s…not what I wanted to hear.” She sniffled quietly, pulling a tissue from the box on the bedside table. “But I guess it’s…no, it _is_ what I needed to hear. Thanks Shouta, you’ve- you’ve really been a good friend.”

The hero was more than ready to deny that fact, but he decided that then was really not the time. Instead he gingerly pulled her into another hug as she began to break back down again. While he wasn’t himself, it was clear that Inko was a very physically affectionate person, and right now, she needed comfort.

“And of course you can come visit Midoriya whenever you want. You’ve done so much for us. You’re part of the family now.”

He had to wonder if he’d heard words muffled in his jumpsuit properly. Part of the family? It was true he was close to Inko – weirdly close considering how little time he’d known her for (must be something to do with her accepting personality), and he’d become emotionally invested in both Midoriya’s wellbeing, but family??

Shouta wasn’t sure he’d go that far (not yet, anyway), but he understood Inko was emotional.

And there was no longer a way of denying it: he was in for the long haul.

( ͡❛ _⦣ ͡❛)

Katsuki was getting sick of all the bullshit.

Well, a part of the bullshit. In particular the part which involved all this _fucking pity_. He was sick of his parent’s wary once-overs. Sick of his shitty classmate’s nervous looks in his direction. And most of all sick of the fucking concerned glances! Aizawa-sensei looked concerned. Aunt Inko looked concerned. The nurses looked concerned. Hell, he’d seen someone on the train to school staring at him as if he was some fucking glass statue that was gonna break any second!

He was _fine._ And today he was gonna prove it.

His alarm went off at 6:00, as usual, snapping Katsuki out of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake, the last thing he clearly remembered was staring at the ceiling the night before. Had he even slept?

 ~~And wasn’t that concerning?~~ Whatever, he felt well rested enough.

The blonde began getting up and ready for his morning jog. He got dressed as quietly as possible to not wake the old hags, and slipped out. He’d eat later when he got back ~~if he remembered to.~~ Right now he just needed to clear his head and mentally prepare for the shitstorm of a day ahead of him.

It had been about a week since Katsuki had returned from suspension (he checked the date on his phone as he put in his earbuds: a week and half, eh, close enough) and he’d fallen back into his usual routine. Except it wasn’t his usual routine because it was all completely fucking different!

Through the school day the teen found his mind constantly drifting onto thoughts of Izuku ( ~~at least when he was present enough to think)~~ ; if any progress had been made while he was stuck in class, if the nerd he used to know had magically returned while he trained, ~~if that nerd even existed anymore, or would ever be the same again~~. Then as soon as school was out he’d make his way over to the hospital for visiting hours: with the half hour train journey’s there and back and the two hours spent in the corner of Izuku’s room his schedule had changed. He arrived home at around seven-thirty, would eat a quick meal if he remembered (he refused to sit down and have dinner with his parents as they tried to pretend that their family wasn’t a train wreck) then crack on with whatever shit assignment school had set him, usually wrapping up around 10. Frustratingly, his work took him longer than it used to.

Days felt longer as well: Katsuki was focusing more than he had in months, and it was goddamn tiring! He remembered all his time with ~~D~~ Izuku, and he was ~~trying~~ bothering to pay more attention in class (he couldn’t deny that his grades had taken a hit since Izuku’s disappearance, and hell was Bakugo gonna become some dumb idiot!).

He swore days used to never drag on this much.

The teen turned a street corner as music blasted into his ears, while forcing himself to reign his thoughts back in. This jog was meant to help the blonde clear his head and prepare, not get stuck in fucking useless thoughts!

He needed to focus.

He was sick of all the pity, how everyone always looked at him like he was weak and broken.

So today he was gonna prove them wrong. He wasn’t gonna zone out _at all_. He was gonna show that _he_ had control, _he_ zoned out on purpose cause everyone just wasn’t worth his time ~~and not because something had gone wrong and he fucking needed help and he needed to talk to someone and then everyone would know that Katsuki Bakugo was a broken wreck---~~

Katsuki growled to himself, startling a passing business man on the way to work. _Focus._ It was a fucking waste of time to think like that (not to mention it made his head feel all foggy and he was _not going to phase out today_ )! It shouldn’t be that big a deal anyways; Katsuki ~~thought~~ knew he could control it, so what’s the big deal of spending a single shitty day like he used to?

He changed the song playing to an obnoxiously loud screamo track – hard to lose focus with that shit blasting your skull apart. He ran for another half hour, forcing himself to focus on each step he took, each turn he made, each street he passed; anything but the thoughts itching at the back of his skull. _He was not going to phase out._

Katsuki checked the time as he made his way back towards his house. Fuck, the old hag would be up by now, wouldn’t she? He grumbled to himself as he opened the door as quietly as possible. Maybe if he was quick enough he could avoid her entirely? He was not gonna allow her to ruin this day-

“Katsuki?”

He felt his eye twitch as he felt her eyes piercing him from behind. “Fucking what?” he grumbled as he shut the door, turning around to meet her gaze.

Mitsuki Bakugo was still in pyjamas, clearly still waking up, with a cup of coffee in hand. He noted the forced smile on her face, and _god_ didn’t it make him want to scream: seeing his mum pretending to be the _absolute perfect mother figure_ all the fucking time with her strained fake happiness cause she was too cowardly to face their problems head on and _if he had to see that pity and disappointment in her eyes one more time_ -

He blinked to find himself on a train, school uniform on.

 _FUCK!!!_ It took all his willpower not to scream right then and there. _He wasn’t doing that today, yet the hag had come along and fucked it all up!_

He breathed deeply through his nose, closing his eyes. No, it was okay. Mornings didn’t count; his mum was a big enough pain to make anyone want to get away. It was school that really counted.

He grabbed one of the protein bars he’d started storing in his pockets (if he was gonna ~~blank out and~~ forget to eat he might as well have food at the ready for when he needed it, right?) and ate his pathetic excuse of a breakfast. He got out his phone and opened a random hero forum – they distracted him well enough when he visited Izuku after school, maybe they could help him now?

_He just needed to keep focus. Prove he was fine. Simple enough._

A few minutes later the train pulled up and he began the short walk to UA. Katsuki heard the rambling of other students around him, making their way to the front gate. He tried to ignore them, glaring at the straight path ahead of him.

_Focus._

He stormed down the corridor, slammed open the door to the classroom, and quickly took his seat. He was early, Ponytail and Icyhot being the only other two people in the room. Both sat in silence, ignoring him.

_Good, he didn’t need any fucking distractions today. Well, not the type of useless distraction those shitty extras provided._

He could do without fucking half and half’s stare though.

“Fuck’s your problem?” the blonde snarled, turning around in his seat to glare at the other boy. All he got in return was a tut and an eyeroll. In the past he would’ve stormed over and challenged the fucking asshole who _dared look down on him like that_ (and most of him still wanted to), ~~but after what happened with Izuku he couldn’t he really couldn’t start that again what if he hurt someone else~~ but he decided to let the living popsicle live another day. Just this once.

_There were more important things than dealing with a shitty classmate._

So instead Katsuki kept scrolling through his phone, searching for ~~anything~~ something interesting enough to keep his attention. He was vaguely aware of the classroom filling up, and sent a glare in the direction of Dunceface when he fell into his desk.

It became easier to focus once Aizawa-sensei arrived – it was him who challenged Katsuki in the first place. The idiot, doubting him like that.

“Alright class,” Aizawa said, “This morning we’re going to be finalising your hero agency choices”

Much to Katsuki’s annoyance, the class broke out into excited muttering. Luckily his teacher seemed just as annoyed by the outburst as he was, and he quickly shut them up with a quirk-enhanced glare.

“Last week you all officially chose your hero names (they had? He’d have to check what he put later) and were given a list of all your agency offers. This internship is your first major step along the path of heroics, so choose carefully, and make sure you don’t regret your decisions.”

With that the teacher pulled out his sleeping bag and lay down on the floor. At the same time the extras began all talking amongst themselves again. It was fucking annoying, their voices mixing to make the perfect white for Bakugo to drift off to, _but he wasn’t allowed to do that today_.

They held him back, the lot of them.

He turned to his list of agencies, and immediately cringed.

First off, in the space where his hero name was supposed to be, there was a TBD.

To be determined??? Had he not recommended anything? Nah, he must’ve put something. Was it _rejected_? If the school _dared_ reject Lord Explosion Murder…

The second thing that made him want to blow this paper from existence was how frustratingly short his list was. It made sense, he’d missed the sports festival thanks to Aizawa-sensei’s bullshit, but it still stung his pride.

Wait, the sports festival? Was that why that icy emo was looking down on him? Because he didn’t compete? Katsuki turned around to see the fucker staring at him. Again! He growled to himself before turning back to his sheet of paper. He shouldn’t care what all these shitty nobodies think, he would’ve won if he was there, easy!

~~…right?~~

By the end of the form period he’d chosen the least terrible looking of his measly offers (some guy called Rock Lock who’d been gaining some popularity lately), and he was already regretting that he chose _today_ to pull this shit – he was already fucking tired.

The first lesson was English with Present Mic. He was too loud for Katsuki’s liking, but at least his shouting made it hard to lose focus.

Next was History with Cementos. That was harder but he still managed to sit through the whole thing.

He spent break time listening to loud music.

_He had to keep going._

His head felt fuzzy during Midnight’s Literature class. It sucked ass trying to pay attention while also blocking out the fucking disgusting remarks from the grape midget behind him.

_Focus on the content. Simple._

He ~~struggled~~ got through Maths. His brain felt like it was bursting.

Lunch could not come soon enough.

As soon as the bell rang, Katsuki was out of his chair, heading to the exit. Those four lessons had _dragged_ , and he was ready for a break. He needed to prepare for…double History of Heroics? Fuck, why did he have to be a stubborn shit and choose today to do this? He could’ve at least been smart and chosen a day with a practical heroics class!

Oh well, this would just prove even further that he was in control. He could just use lunchtime to get his head back in the game. Have some time alone without the annoying drabble from the other students.

Unfortunately the universe had a different plan for Bakugo, as an arm slung over his shoulder with an exclamation of “Hey Bakubro! Where you rushing off to?”

Ugh, Shitty hair. Probably the most persistent of his new lackeys ~~did he really deserve to be called a lacky?~~ , and the second most annoying – Pikachu was and always would be the worst.

Katsuki honestly didn’t understand why this lot had started following him. He knew he was great, but he hadn’t been trying to shove it in other people’s faces like he used to. Besides, this set of extras weren’t absolute weaklings like the last, it wasn’t like they _needed_ his help for every small thing.

~~So what did he do to earn these people’s respect?~~

Maybe they were just a bunch of idiots?

“Dude, don’t just ignore me!” the redhead next to him whined. Bakugo blinked. Shit he’d been zoning out, hadn’t he? He really needed to get away from these distractions.

He scoffed and ducked out from the arm around his shoulder. “None of your fucking business, shithead,” he said, feeling another person come to his other side.

“C’mon Bakugo! Come and have lunch with us! Just this once!” It was Roundface, the third most annoying member of the group.

Katsuki didn’t hesitate with his reply, “No.”

Floaty girl gave him puppy eyes. “Pleeeaasseee,” she said, hands clutched together as if in prayer. By her side Shitty Hair pulled a matching expression. They looked fucking stupid.

“I said no. And I don’t change my mind.”

“Oh,” both looked dejected, and Katsuki’s stomach momentarily squirmed. Fuck, he wasn’t trying to upset people anymore, he just wanted them to leave him alone.

Then again, he did kinda need to eat. That was part of proving he was fine, right?

“Fine, you and your idiot friends can tag along if you want. I’m getting lunch anyways” he huffed, trying to ignore how his two classmate’s faces lit up at his words.

Kirishima spoke “Great! We just need to wait for Mina and Kaminari, they were kept back by Snipe because of their grades, but they’ll be out- “

“I’m going now.” Katsuki interrupted, turning to leave. Sure, he was trying to be nicer to people than the dick he used to be, but hell if he was gonna waste his time waiting for two dumbasses! As he began heading down the corridor, he felt a presence run up behind him. He turned to find Pink cheeks once again beside him, for god knows what reason.

“Kiri’s gonna wait for the others, while I’ll stay with you!” she said (even though he hadn’t fucking asked!), “We’re gonna meet up in the dining hall – that way we can save them a better table!”

Katsuki grunted and continued walking. Beside him Pink cheeks kept chattering away endlessly. It was annoying, but easy enough to block out.

Once they got to the dining hall they got their food and sat down. However it was hard fot Katsuki to properly enjoy the food since Floaty chose a table _right in the centre_ , so they were surrounded by loud, obnoxious people on all sides. It made Katsuki feel trapped, his exhausted mind latching onto every exclamation, ever scrape of a chair, every clink of cutlery. It made him feel twitchy.

_This was why he should’ve gone off alone. At least then he’d be feeling calm._

Roundface kept talking as they ate, the blonde responding with grunts and short, clipped answers. He didn’t like this. He wanted to be out back, alone, not surrounded by noise and people ~~and eyes watching him, knowing what he did.~~

_So why was he still here?_

_To prove a point?_

_To prove he was fine?_

_He was fine. ~~Kind of.~~_

It wasn’t long before the others joined them, Pikachu and Racoon Eyes complaining about whatever the hell those two idiots talked about. Tapeface and Shitty Hair followed not long after. Now the table was crowded along with the rest of the dining room.

Katsuki really wanted to leave.

But he stayed.

“It’s really packed today, huh?” Tapeface said as he dug into his noodles. Katsuki looked back down at his own food. He’d gotten katsudon. He felt sick.

“Dude, you legit say that every day,” Pikachu said.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Yeah but you’re gonna be like a…what’s the saying?”

“Broken record?”

“Yeah! A broken record!”

They kept talking, and Bakugo felt everything go fuzzy. The words from the extras around him sounded muffled, like he was listening to a conversation underwater. The katsudon in his bowl looked like it was wriggling around.

“Bro, you okay? How’s your food?”

He turned to see red eyes. Piercing eyes. _Pitying eyes._

Katsuki snapped.

“I’m fucking fine shitty hair! Just stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong you annoying extra!”

“Sorry dude! Guess you really don’t like being interrupted while eating!” The redhead put his hands up, a joking smile on his face, but the damage was done. Katsuki had seen it – that moment hurt had flashed in those eyes.

_He’d hurt someone._

_He wasn’t supposed to do that anymore._

_But he had._

Everything felt extremely distant as he muttered out a quiet “Sorry.” All the noise around him sounded like muttering, _whispering_ , and it was all fading, fading, fading…

He just needed to hang in there. Just until the end of the day.

_He needed to._

He blinked lazily, and found himself writing at his desk.

At home.

Fuck.

He looked at the work he was doing. It was his homework for History of Heroics. He didn’t remember writing his work so far, let alone receiving it in the first place.

_But he’d tried._

_He was ~~not~~ in control, and yet he hadn’t been able to last a single measly day without **this** happening?_

_He was meant to be in control._

_So how had he ended up here?_

That’s when the full force of the situation finally hit him.

_He couldn’t remember everything. And he couldn’t control it. There were minutes, hours, **days** at a time that he couldn’t fucking recall a moment of._

_He could be doing **anything** in that time and not know it until it was too late._

_What if he got in trouble in that time? Wandered off to god knows where? What if there was a villain attack and he didn’t snap out of whatever the hell this bullshit was? What if he screwed things over just as badly as **he did with Izuku for the first fourteen years of his life?**_

_He wouldn’t remember a thing._

_Fuck._

( ͡❛ _⦣ ͡❛)

Toshinori sat in one of the private meeting rooms at UA, glancing nervously at the clock every few seconds, just to see that no time has passed since the last check. He wasn’t nervous that the person he invited wasn’t going to show up, more just worried about how the following conversation was going to go.

“All Might? You asked to see me?”

He looked up to see the smiling figure of Togata Mirio in the doorway.

The pro put on a tired smile, “Yes, Togata, glad you could make it.” He decided he might as well start off with pleasantries; even if he wasn’t particularly close to his successor, he still had respect and admiration for the upcoming hero – he really was the ideal next holder of One for All (Toshinori just selfishly wished he could’ve been the one to pick him out), “Would you like some tea? Nezu recommended it and it has rather grown on me.”

The young man gave a thumbs up. “Sounds good!”

Toshinori poured another cup of tea as his protégé sat down opposite him. They stayed in silence for what felt like a lifetime until Togata said “Is something wrong?” Despite his smile, the pro could sense a level of seriousness and concern behind the boy’s words.

The symbol of peace sighed, sipping from his cup. “No, not really. I’ve just been thinking about…something recently, and I wanted your viewpoint.”

“Hit me!” Togata snapped his fingers into finger guns and winked.

“You see, Togata-shounen, I…” Toshinori paused. This was going to be tough, literally admitting to his successor that _no, he wasn’t the person he wanted to pass his power to._ “There’s no nice way of saying this, but you weren’t my first choice for One for All.”

The room went incredibly silent, so quiet that if it wasn’t for the clock ticking away above the doorframe Toshinori would believe time had simply stopped moving. He looked down at his tea, keeping his eyes off Togata (the coward he was) as he continued, “There was this middle schooler I met last year. Midoriya Izuku. He had all the qualities needed for a hero. He acted in a situation where no one else was prepared to step forward to save someone, and he inspired me. He had a truly heroic heart, but he was quirkless.” He saw his successor tense from the corner of his eye. “I was going to offer him my quirk after he spurred me into action, but he went missing that day, only half a few minutes after the incident, and he was only found again recently.”

Togata hummed before guessing (it was more confirming than guessing, the boy was smarter than he got credit for),“The raid on the League?”

“Yes. He’s…not the same. He’s been pushed beyond his limits and honestly no one is sure if he’ll ever get better.” He risked a glance up to find his protégé’s smile gone, a slightly furrowed brow and pursed lips in it’s place. “I’d never take One for All away from you; the quirk is yours now and I honestly couldn’t wish for a better successor, but I’m curious. What would’ve you done in my situation? Would you have delayed giving away One for All in the hopes that Midoriya would reappear, or moved on and…” he trailed off, unsure how to continue (or more like not wanting to, the level of guilt he felt over how he’d dealt with both possible successors was unpleasant to say the least).

“And given it to me?” Toshinori nodded slightly. This conversation wasn’t enjoyable, he’d known it wasn’t going to be as soon as he’d decided to hold it. And yet he still had it. A part of him reasoned that it was because it was a necessary talk. Another thought that he was still seeking confirmation and closure. A nastier part reckoned that he regretted his choices and wanted to change what had happened.

But this was purely hypothetical. Just a ‘what if’?

It’s not like Midoriya could wield his quirk now.

“Why are you talking to me about this? Why not Sir?” a bubble of guilt (and probably blood) rose up All Might’s throat as he saw the sadness appearing in the blue eyes across from him. It wasn’t fair to put his protégé through a talk like this.

But he needed to know. What views would the boy hold?

“Both you and I know how biased your mentor can be.”

Togata chuckled weakly, and Toshinori felt himself smile as a bit of the gloomy atmosphere disappeared. Mirai was great, really, but it was no secret that the man had practically adopted Lemillion.

The boy’s laughter faded quickly as he fell back into serious thought. Toshinori waited patiently, swirling the dregs of his tea around the bottom of his cup.

The the boy abruptly answered, “Honestly? I was hesitant to take up your offer of One for All. Not because I didn’t want it!” he quickly backtracked as shock appeared on the pro’s face.“I know your quirk can help me become an even greater hero, and save even more people, but that’s also my point. It could make me a greater hero, but even without it I could be a hero. I couldn’t help but think when you first offered to me that maybe the power should go to someone who couldn’t stand in the ring? Give someone who wanted to be a hero an opportunity to follow their dream when they otherwise couldn’t.” A conversation with a quirkless kid on a roof came to mind, and Toshinori felt both a twist of sadness and a burst of pride as Togata continued, “I think you made the right choice, considering the situation, but the right choice isn’t necessarily the best one.”

This kid really was the best protégé he could ask for; he could picture even now how he could picture just how much better Lemillion would’ve dealt with the entire situation if he was in his place.

“I see…thank you for your honesty.” He said, taking note of the time. 2:00. Togata would need to rush back to class to be there on time.

“No problem sensei! Just…” he said brightly, before dulling down into a more serious tone.“I know the quirk’s mine now, but if you ever run into someone worthy who needs that helping hand to reach their dream, give me a call, okay?”

“If you’re sure you want this, then of course.” He got a nod and thumbs up in return, but it didn’t feel right. It was too sad. He gave a last ditch effort to compliment his student before he left the room. “You really are a great hero Togata-shounen,” he said as his successor slid open the meeting room door.

He really meant it as well. The boy would fill the shoes of the next symbol of peace wonderfully.

He really meant it, but why did it still feel like there was a massive foreboding void between them?

His successor gave a sad smile and small nod, before leaving the room.

Togata’s tea remained untouched on the table.

( ͡❛ _⦣ ͡❛)

_He sat alone in a cold room, machinery beeping and whirring around him._

“Shigaraki, may I ask why you haven’t collected Izuku yet?”

_He got a raspy answer from the other side of the screen._

“I’m trying something.”

“Hm?”

_This was new._

“I did something wrong last time. No matter what combination I tried the NPC was glitched out by the end. I didn’t have the items available to restore him.”

“So, what are you going to do this time?”

“…I’ll take my time. I need a full reset so I can try again.”

_Izuku was turning out to be a rather good investment after all, even if not in the way he’d initially hoped._

“You know I could rework his brain to speed up the process?“

“No, I don’t want to cheat! I’m going to solve it by myself! I just need to think of a new method.”

_Good. His protégé was learning well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! I hoped you liked it!  
> I'm sorry again for the massive wait, I'll try not to disappear for months any time again in the future.
> 
> Because of the massive wait this time I'll give a lil hint for next time:  
> SoMe WiLd FrIeNdS ApPeAr!!!!
> 
> Yeah that's all your getting, though doesn't take a genius to work out what friends at this point...
> 
> (also some angsty flashbacc shet cus I thrive off angst)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a link to my [tumblr!](https://emmarzhere.tumblr.com/)


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